


True Colors Shining Thru

by Crazy_Cat_Lady



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom, Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Annoying Little Brothers, BAMF!Frigga, Bossy Big Brothers, Gen, Good Loki, Horns, Humor, Jotunheim, Jötunn Loki, Loki Has Issues, Not Canon Compliant, Odin's A- Parenting, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-23
Updated: 2013-07-28
Packaged: 2017-11-26 13:42:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 41
Words: 63,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/651097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crazy_Cat_Lady/pseuds/Crazy_Cat_Lady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After touching the Casket of Ancient Winters, Loki winds up stuck in his Jotun form and without his magic.  With Odin sleeping and Thor banished to Earth, Frigga decides to send Loki to Jotunheim, accompanied by Sif and the Warriors Three, to negotiate reparations and learn about his people.</p><p>But when Asgard comes under threat, Loki must seek out his adopted brother on Earth, and together they must find a way home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Now also at fanfiction.net My user name there is 2ManyCats.

Descending to the lowest depths of Odin’s vault, Loki made his way to stand before the Casket of Ancient Winters, noting in passing that everything had been cleaned and restored to its former pristine glory. No trace of ice, or the smallest puddle of melt water remained. The bodies and the mangled parts of bodies might never have been. Should not have been, but he could not think about that now.

Bitter cold seeped from the Casket, burning the back of his throat with the taste of magic, and at its heart was the howling storm, barely contained.

As a boy, he had been fascinated and fearful of the power he could sense in it. Thor had scoffed, of course. To him it was just a glowing blue box, too cold to touch. As cold as the grasp of a frost giant.

His hands hovered, trembled. I have to know. Above and behind him, he heard the vault doors opening, the locks disengaging as spells of knowing and protecting responded to the All-Father’s arrival.

“Stop!” Odin’s command rang out, echoing from the walls, urgent and imbued with his will. But Loki had his hands on the Casket, was lifting it from its place and it was too late to stop. Too late to keep its cold from flowing into him, chilling his flesh, freezing his heart, staining him blue. His vision blurred, and when it sharpened again, the chamber was brighter, its colors strangely changed.

“Am I cursed?” he asked his father, scrambling at one last hope, one shrinking alternative.

“No.” Odin’s voice was reluctant.

“What am I?” His world was ice. Thin ice, ready to shatter into sharp, glittering shards.

“You’re my son.” Loki was known throughout the realms as a talented liar, and he knew the knack of lying with the truth.

Besides, what son of Odin had night blue skin, traced with fine lines? He did not want to see it. Instead, he concentrated on the Casket, on its storm. He could feel it raging. It wanted him to open it, unleash Winter and death and destruction and- Carefully, he replaced it on its pedestal. Loki was Loki, and he did what he wanted.

The storm was still with him, though, as he turned to face the man he’d always thought to be his father. There was no shock on Odin’s face at seeing him like this. He’d known. Had his whole life been a lie? “What more than that?”

“The Casket wasn’t the only thing you took from Jotunheim that day, was it?” He stalked toward his father/ _Not my father_ / wanting to scream, wanting break things.

“No.” The All-Father’s single eye gazes past Loki, seemingly into the past.

“In the aftermath of battle, I went into the temple, and I found a baby. Small, for a giant’s offspring. Abandoned, suffering, left to die. Laufey’s son.”

“Laufey’s son.” Laufey the King of Jotunheim. Not just a monster but a prince of monsters. _Father always told us we were both born to be kings._

“Yes.”

“Why?” It made no sense. None. Loki felt tears sliding down his face. Not hot tears, but cold. “You were knee-deep in Jotun blood. Why would you take me?”

“You were an innocent child..” Odin’s shoulders slumped in exhaustion, as if the weight of Asgard pressed down on him. For a moment, Loki felt sympathy. But there was guilt in his eyes, and he avoided Loki’s gaze.

“No. You took me for a purpose.” Laufey’s son? Why would Odin take up the son of his defeated enemy? Laufey had taken Odin’s eye. Odin had taken the power of Laufey’s realm, and his son. There had to be some other reason. “What was it?”

Odin looked at him, at a loss for for the right words, or for the right lie?

“Tell me!” Loki howled, the bitter wind of winter in his cry.

“I thought we could unite our kingdoms, one day. Bring about an alliance. Bring about a permanent peace. Through you.  But those plans no longer matter.”

“So I am no more than another stolen relic? Locked up, here, until you might have use of me?” The other relics in the vault thrummed softly, responding to his spiraling anger.

“Why do you twist my words?”

“You could have told me what I was, from the beginning. Why didn’t you?” _How could you lie to me all these years?_

“You’re my son. I wanted only to protect you from the truth.”

“What? Because I’m the monster parents tell their children about at night?”

“No, no...” Odin sighed, looking tired and frustrated. Like his son, his real son, he had never been gifted with words.

“You know, it all makes sense now. Why you favored Thor all these years. Because no matter how much you claim to love me, you could never have a frost giant sitting on the throne of Asgard.”

At his back, the Casket roared silently, and other powers stirred and struggled against Odin’s wards.

“That’s enough!” Taking Loki firmly by the arms, Odin cast a familiar spell, binding his magic. As if he were still a child, out of control.

“Father!” The protest slipped out before he could stop it.

“You’re upset. We’ll discuss this when we are both calmer.” Falling back into this role of stern guardian seemed to help Odin find his confidence again, though he still seemed very tired.

“I think I have a right to be upset! I am not some child to be hushed and sent to my room!”

“But this is not the place, Loki,” Odin’s voice was implacable. “You know that.”

He did know that. It was not just theft that the vault was meant to protect against. Many of the items kept here had something akin to a will of their own. Drawing in a deep breath, Loki realized he felt a little calmer. He still felt furious that his parents had lied to him, but the storm was gone. Which meant Odin had been right to seal his magic. It didn't mean he had to like it.

“Fine. Not here,” he growled, rubbing his hands together as if the blue would wipe off. “I hate this!”

“Well-” Odin’s tone suggested he was about to make some wry comment, but instead he sat down rather suddenly, his expression changing from amusement to alarm.

“Father?” Loki knelt quickly, reaching out to support him. It flashed through his mind that his touch might burn Odin with cold, as Volstagg had been burned, but it did not. Fortunately. But something was wrong.

“I think perhaps I’ve delayed the Odinsleep a bit too long,” Asgard’s king admitted wearily, sliding bonelessly out of Loki’s grasp to sprawl against the biting edges of the stone stairway.

“Father?” Loki shook him, let his hand flutter up to check that he was still breathing, then turned towards the door, about to call for help when it suddenly occurred to him what was likely to happen if the guards rushed in and found Odin unconscious in the presence of a Jotun. With the recent increased tensions, he might wind up dismembered before he could explain. Not that anyone would believe it anyway.

Still, he needed help. Removing his coat, he rolled it into a pad and placed it gently under Odin’s head, then walked to the door, opening it just a handspan.

“Would you send someone for my mother, and send her in when she arrives, please?” He was pleased that he managed to sound casual. Nothing wrong with a little family get-together in the vault.

“Of course, my prince.” The guard turned at the sound of his voice, but Loki was careful to keep out of sight.

“No one else is to come in,” he commanded. “And make haste. Father needs her.” Loki needed her.

“Yes, my prince.” The closing door cut off anything else the man had to say, and Loki went to sit next to the man who had stolen him, and raised him, lied to him and loved him. He thought about Thor, stripped of his power and banished to Midgard, and wondered if his arrogant, brash brother was having as much difficulty as he was today. Probably not. Everything always worked out for Thor.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki and his mother have a long-overdue talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See notes at the end.

It took an eternity for his mother to arrive. She slipped through the door with her habitual smile, thanking the guard for his assistance, and swept her gaze to where Loki sat and Odin lay unmoving. 

“Loki!” 

He tracked her movements by the whisper of fabric and the soft tread of leather on stone as she rushed towards them. He didn’t turn to face her, didn’t look up when she dropped to her knees beside her husband.

“What happened?” she demanded, as she touched Odin’s chest. Stroked his face. Took his hand in hers.

“I... I..” Anguish welled up, choking off Loki’s words.

With her other hand, she reached for his, her fingers shockingly pale against the blue. Looking up, he searched her face for shock, for horror. His mother was surprised, and worried. When he attempted to pull his hand away, she tightened her grip.

“Loki, what happened?”

“You knew,” he accused. He tried again to pull away from her, hating her for her deceit. Her touch was too warm, and his new eyes altered her familiar beauty to something new and strange. 

Her voice was the same, though, soothing as a balm. “That you were Jotun? Yes,” she answered. “It never mattered to me, Loki. You are my son.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but she overrode him. “What happened to your father?”

“We were arguing, and he collapsed.” He couldn’t stand her stricken look. “He said something about the Odinsleep.”

She sighed. “He has been putting it off.” Her tone was fond and exasperated. “We need to take him to his chambers.”

“It doesn’t usually start this way, does it? Is he going be all right?”

“Yes, of course,” she promised, giving him a quick, reassuring smile. “He will probably sleep longer than usual, since he delayed it so long. He’ll be fine, Loki. Let’s just get him to bed.”

“Mother.” She looked up questioningly. He still didn’t understand how she could bear to look at him without recoiling. “I can’t go out there looking like this!”

Her golden brows crimped in a puzzled frown. “You can’t change back?”

“Father bound my magic. It was... I-” He swept a hand around to indicate the powerful relics all around them, “Things were reacting.”

“I see.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, thinking. Then she rose to her feet and unfastened her cloak. Placing it on his shoulders, she murmured a spell of obscuring and concealing on it. It was a small, easy magic, a variation of one of the first spells she’d taught him as a boy. As long as he called no attention to himself, no one should notice him. 

“Meet me in your father’s rooms,” she instructed, stroking back a stray lock of his hair with a wan smile before going to call for help.

Loki faded into the background, and the guards ignored him, as did everyone he passed as he cautiously made his way to Odin’s chambers. As he ducked into an alcove to avoid a gaggle of gossiping maids, he wondered if he could possibly keep out of sight till Odin woke. Even without Thor around to outshine him, it seemed he was destined to always be a shadow in Asgard.

It was a challenge avoiding the swarm of unnecessary healers, busy servants and frantic courtiers, but eventually his mother got them all sorted, soothed and sent on their ways, and they were alone, staring at each other over the bed where the All-Father lay bathed in the golden light of the Odinforce. Loki waited, determined to force her to speak first.

“I asked him to be honest with you from the beginning,” his mother told him, leaning over her husband. “There should be no secrets in a family.” 

It helped a little, to know his mother had not been in favor of this pretense, but- “Then why did he lie?”

“He kept the truth from you so you would never feel different. You are our son, Loki, and we are your family. You must know that.”

Loki knew a lie when he heard one, and his mother might not be his mother in truth, but she did not lie when she called him son. The icy fist around his heart eased, just a little.

“But I have always felt different. At least now I know why.” He kept being surprised that she was willing to look at him as if nothing had changed. Every time he caught a glimpse of his azure features and sinister red eyes reflected from every gilded surface, it sickened him. “All this time, I’ve been a monster in a false skin.”

“You are not!” Frigga rarely showed her temper, but when she did, her husband and sons knew to tread carefully.

He was not her son, though she would always be his mother. He was Laufey’s stolen offspring, and a Jotun in Asgard.

“No?” Loki challenged, sweeping an arm towards the door. “Why don’t you call for your attendants, then? Present me to the Court? With Thor gone, the succession falls to me, doesn’t it? How do you think they’ll like a frost giant as their next king?”

“Sarcasm is not helpful,” she responded, sitting back to stare levelly at him. It was her ‘I expect more of you’ look. 

“Even if you were Asgardian by birth, you still haven’t reached your majority,” she reminded him. “I will serve as Regent, as I have done the last five times your father slept.”

Loki turned to stare at the tapestry above the bed, avoiding her gaze.

“You have every right to be angry,” Frigga conceded. “I am sorry. I’m sorry we lied. I’m sorry Asgard and Jotunheim are still bitter enemies, but the Jotuns are not monsters, Loki.”

“Oh, come now, Mother,” he scoffed, turning back to glower at her. “You know perfectly well that everyone says the frost giants are vicious animals and that Father should have destroyed them all instead of just taking the Casket!”

“Not everyone. There are many in Asgard who realize the frost giants are not evil, that they had reasons for their actions. But it was a brutal war, and many people are still angry.” 

She went to him and folded him into her arms. Her gentle warmth now felt much too hot to him, like standing next to a roaring fire, but Loki decided he would bite off his own tongue before he ever told her so. He clung to her, feeling young, and small, and lonely.

“We may be at war with Jotunheim again soon,” he told her, drawing away enough to see her face. 

“That cannot be allowed to happen,” Frigga insisted. “We must stop it.”

“How? What can we do?”

“I don’t know yet, but war must be prevented.” Frigga shook her head. “It’s very late. Why don’t you get some sleep, and we can make plans tomorrow, when we are thinking more clearly.”

“You’re sure? I can stay if you like.”

“I am going to curl up next to your father and get some sleep as well. There’s a great deal to get done tomorrow.”

“Very well.” Loki leaned down over the sleeping All-Father, knowing Odin could hear him, even if he could not respond. “Don’t think you are getting out of our argument this easily, Father.” 

Then he kissed his mother good night, put on the enspelled cloak and slipped away to his rooms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I've made a lot of changes. This is very much an AU, but I hope I am keeping in character of how it could have happened.
> 
> Thanks so much for the kudos and comments. I appreciate feedback. =)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sif and the Warriors Three decide to bring Thor home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See bottom for notes.

All throughout Asgard, tension was rife at the news of the heir’s banishment, the All-Father’s unexpected incapacitation and rumors of impending war. Throughout the palace, tempers were short; the guards were all on alert, and it seemed no one had time or inclination to spar or gossip or flirt with Sif and the Warriors Three, so they had gathered in a parlor near to Thor’s chambers, but in his absence, they had fallen into a restless silence.

Sif was cleaning and polishing her armor, though it did not really need it.

Spinning his mace through a series of blurring movements, Hogun the Grim allowed the weapon to flow from hand to hand like the realm’s deadliest juggler. 

On an oversized couch, Volstagg reclined with a heavily laden tray, stuffing his face with what seemed more determination than enjoyment. 

Fandral paced with increasing agitation. Finally, he rounded on Volstagg. 

“Our dearest friend banished, the king sleeping for who knows how long, Asgard on the brink of war, yet you manage to consume four wild boar, six pheasant, a side of beef, and two casks of ale. Shame on you! Don't you care?”

Snatching the platter off his friend’s prodigious stomach, he hurled it clattering across the room. 

Volstagg shot to his feet with a roar. “Do not mistake my appetite for apathy,” he growled, looming over the slighter warrior, eyes blazing and beard bristling and gleaming with fat and drops of spilled ale.

Their companions leapt to pull them apart before they could come to blows.

“Stop it, both of you!” Sif shouted. “We all know what we have to do.” She turned to look at Hogun, knowing he understood her meaning.

He did. “We must go. We must find Thor.”

Fandral, who had turned away, now spun to stare. “It’s treason, Hogun!”

“To hell with treason,” Volstagg muttered, rescuing a small cake from between the cushions of the sofa, “It’s suicide.”

“Thor would do the same for us,” Sif insisted. “You know he would!”

“Now shush,” Volstagg’s dessert crumbled in suddenly nervous fingers. “Heimdall might be watching.”

The rumble of the room’s great golden doors opening caused them all to turn, and their expressions went shocked and guilty when one of the Einherjar announced, “Heimdall demands your presence!”

Volstagg quickly drained his flagon of ale, belched, and declared, “We’re doomed.”

\-----------

“Mother,” Loki leaned over to whisper in Frigga’s ear the moment there was a break between the petitioners and military advisors who had been monopolizing her time since she had left Odin’s side at dawn. 

She started, since her own magic had hidden him from her as well as everyone else until he had spoken. “Yes?” She was proud that she managed to keep her voice steady, though her nerves were on edge.

“Sif and the Warriors Three are planning on finding Thor and bringing him back,” he informed her. “Heimdall has sent for them.”

“Heimdall?” Frigga scowled, rubbing her temples in an effort to soothe her increasing headache. “You don’t think he will open the Bifrost for them, do you?”

“He let Thor lead us into Jotunheim,” Loki reminded her. “I didn’t think he would.”

Hearing something more in his tone, Frigga narrowed her eyes at him, but there was no time to pursue whatever he was hiding just now. “Send the-” she stopped herself, remembering that Loki could not relay her orders in his Jotun form. This was truly the most inconvenient time that his heritage could possibly come out. “Never mind.” She strode quickly to the doors, calling for the captain of the Einherjar.

Loki faded back to wait and see what would happen, pleased and a little surprised that his mother did not seem to approve of the plan to bring back Asgard’s favorite son. It wasn’t that he wanted Thor gone forever, but his older brother had already nearly started a war, and he had seemed perfectly happy about it. If war was to be averted, Thor was the last person they needed.

\-----------

Warily, Sif and the Warriors Three entered Heimdall’s Observatory. They had taken it as a positive sign that the guard had not accompanied them after delivering his summons, but the Gatekeeper glared at them as they approached.

Fandral reminded himself sternly that Heimdall pretty much always glared, and it didn’t necessarily mean what they thought it meant.

Volstagg spoke first. “Good Heimdall, let us explain--”

Flatly, Heimdall overrode him. “You would defy the commands of Odin our King, break every oath you have taken as warriors, and commit treason to bring Thor back?”

They looked uneasily at one another. Volstagg tugged nervously at his beard, and Hogun fingered the haft of his mace.

Sif answered, “Yes, but--”

“Good,” Heimdall grunted, without changing expression.

Sif blinked. Fandral let out a nervous bark of laughter that hinted at hysteria.

Hogun the Grim managed to look grimmer still, but said nothing, so it fell to Volstagg to confirm their understanding of the situation. “So you'll help us?”

“I am bound by honor to obey the orders of the regent.” The Gatekeeper stepped down from the control column and walked past them to the exit. “I cannot open the Bifrost to you.”

Before they could overcome their confusion, however, there was the growing cacophony of many riders, approaching at a gallop.

“The guard,” Sif hissed in frustration. They had been so close. “Should we try to-”

“Halt in the name of Frigga, All-Mother, regent of Asgard!” the lead rider’s voice was ringing out even before he was off his horse. The entire company dismounted, drawing swords as they came.

“We just wanted to-” Sif started, but the Captain cut her off brusquely, “The regent commanded me to bring you to her.”

“Right.” Fandral looked sheepishly relieved.

“It was a bad idea anyway,” Volstagg muttered into his beard.

Hogun looked mutinous, but they all looked to Sif for the final decision. Outside of Thor, she was the strongest of their group.

She bared her teeth, putting a hand to the hilt of her own sword and drawing it a few inches.

The Captain held her gaze. “I was told to tell you that if you refused to come with me, I was to bring you by force, and to remind you that to draw weapons against the Einherjar is treason.” His expression hardened at Sif’s continuing defiance. “It will not be forgiven.”

She rammed her sword back into the sheath. “We will come with you, then.”

He nodded, waiting for them to exit first before turning to follow. None of the men with him moved. “Gatekeeper,” the Captain addressed Heimdall, who was, of course, glaring. “The regent asked that I post these men here to help you guard the Bifrost.”

There was a long moment of uncomfortable stillness as Heimdall absorbed the meaning of this. “Of course,” he replied. “Tell the regent that I am at her command.”

“Good,” the Captain smiled coolly, mounting up next next to Sif and the Warriors three and gesturing that they should go.

They went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is unbetad, so all mistakes are mine. If you see any, please let me know and I'll correct them. I know these chapters are short, but I hope to post frequently. Thanks again for the kudos, everyone!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frigga has some words for Thor's friends, and Loki confesses some things.

Sif and the Warriors Three were led into a throne room strangely devoid of its usual crowd of courtiers, petitioners, councilors and running pages. Instead, there were only the guards keeping their vigil, and the waiting regent. Their footsteps were eerily loud, echoing in the vast empty space. At the foot of the dais, they all dropped to one knee, and saluted, fist over heart, waiting for her to speak.

As regent, Frigga All-Mother did not sit in Odin’s throne, but in a smaller, less ornate chair, mounted a level below it, to symbolize her rule was temporary and subordinate to her husband’s, but she did hold Gungnir across her knees as she stared stonily down at them. 

She dismissed the Captain of the Einherjar, along with the rest of the guards, and waited until they were alone before she rose survey them.

“Get up.” Frigga was tempted to make them remain in that position, but she wanted honesty, not placations and excuses. She also suspected this interview might take some time, 

Hesitantly, they climbed to their feet, looking guilty and sheepish and altogether too much like children to her. But they were all of age, and she could not treat them as children. She was beginning to think that as children, they had perhaps been excused rather too often. They and her sons.

Keeping her anger suppressed, Frigga began, “ I would like an explanation.”

Sif’s chin rose. “We were going to find Thor.”

“So I was told.” Frigga tapped out a soft rhythm on Gungnir’s golden shaft. “Against the All-Father’s express orders. Despite my own command that the Bifrost not be used by any without my permission.”

“We just thought-” Fandral began nervously, then trailed off.

“What?” Frigga demanded, looking at each of them in turn. “You were thinking what?”

“We need Thor,” Hogun rumbled, grimly determined.

“For what, exactly?”

“War is coming,” the taciturn warrior ground out.

“War is not coming!” Frigga leveled her husband’s spear to point at him, caught herself and brought it up again. “War is not coming if there is aught in my power to stop it. I am in the midst of arranging negotiations even now.”

“Negotiations?!” Sif scoffed. “You cannot negotiate with those animals! They have no-”

“Enough!” Frigga snapped, slamming the butt of Gungnir down with a thunderous boom. She drew in a deep breath, pushing down her rage and self-recrimination that she had not insisted more be done to quell such bigotry. She imagined the words as acid-coated whips, cutting into her Jotun-born son.

Sif and the three men had the audacity to look surprised, which made it even more difficult for her not to control her impulse to shout at them, or even whack each and every one of them on their thick skulls with Gungnir. She sat back down, before she did something she might regret. 

“The Jotuns are not animals,” she informed them, coldly. “We had a treaty and we broke it. Who seems the unreasoning party in this situation?”

“Surely, they broke the treaty first by trying to steal the Casket!” Volstagg spoke up at last.

“We do not know that,” Frigga answered. “We do not know if it was an unauthorized attempt by a few malcontents, or if they were sent by Laufey.”

“What we do know,” she continued more firmly before they could argue this point, “Is that Thor Odinson, as the crown prince and heir, as the person who was only moments from being installed as regent, can legitimately be said to represent Asgard!”

“We were only going for some answers,” Fandral defended. “It... rather got out of hand,” he admitted, flashing a nervous smile.

“The All-Father has his own methods of gathering intelligence,” Frigga pointed out. “And just what plan did you have for finding these answers, anyway?”

There was no answer for a long moment, save for a nervous shuffle of feet.

Then Fandral confessed, “It was Thor’s idea.”

“I do not doubt it.” Frigga’s brows lifted in curious skepticism. “But what idea was it? Did he not tell you? Did you even ask if there was more to this ‘plan’ than to ride into a hostile and prohibited realm and demand that the frost giants tell you everything, or else?”

The non-answers were even more awkwardly long after this.

“The All-Father banished Thor for a reason,” Frigga said. “It was not simply because he was angry. It was not a whim of temper.”

“He stripped him of his powers and sent him to Midgard to learn lessons he has not learned here. Things he will need to be a worthy king, in time. When he has learned, his powers will be restored and he will be welcomed home.”

“But he may be in danger!” Volstagg pointed out. “He may need us!”

“Heimdall is watching him, and he has not reported to me that Thor is in any imminent danger.” Frigga sat back with an angry sigh. “Though I must say I am not overly impressed with Heimdall’s good judgment as of late.”

“Surely, we can be of help to him in learning whatever these lessons are,” Fandral offered. “We are his friends, after all.”

“You are his friends,” Frigga agreed, “And you have been most loyal. But in my opinion, the four of you need to learn some lessons of your own. If I had Odin’s power, I would be sorely tempted to banish all of you, separately, so that you might become a little more wise.”

“What lessons?” Sif asked, belligerently crossing her arms over her breastplate.

“Well,” Frigga fixed the girl with a look, “You could stand to learn that there are other forms of strength than fighting. I know that you have had to work very hard for your place as a warrior, Sif, but you seem to think that means that you must be more eager for bloodshed than any man.”

“That is not true!”

“Oh yes it is,” muttered Volstagg, maybe a little more loudly than he had meant to. Fandral snickered, and even Hogun snorted a small laugh.

She rounded on them in a fury, but Frigga did not have time to watch them squabble.  
“Regardless, the four of you are Thor’s friends, but you allow him to lead you unwisely!”

Their attention returned to her, sullenly.

“You are no longer children, playing at adventures,” Frigga pointed out. “Your actions, and your inactions, have real consequences. Your advice and opinions matter to Thor. You have an obligation to help him do the right thing.”

“What if he never comes back?” cried Sif. 

“I believe he will,” Frigga replied. “I believe the All-Father believed it as well, or he would not have given him the opportunity to prove himself. I have faith in Thor to find his way home as a better man, and I have faith in him to do it without your help.”

“What about Loki?” Hogun suddenly demanded.

Frigga’s heart climbed into her throat. She knew Loki was in the room, somewhere. At least she assumed so. “What about Loki?” she inquired. 

“Um, maybe it’s nothing,” Fandral looked worried.

“Yes, it’s nothing,” Volstagg boomed, as Sif rolled her eyes and huffed angrily. 

Hogun persisted, “Laufey said there were traitors in the House of Odin. Loki’s magic could have brought the Jotuns here without Heimdall’s seeing them.”

Hot anger flared in Frigga, even as the logical part of her mind accepted this as a possibility, even going so far as to assemble some of Loki’s likely motivations. He had always been prone to making trouble as a means of getting attention, and that day had everyone’s attention had been all for Thor.

“That is a serious accusation,” she told him, studying his face. Studying all their faces. She could see that they all thought Loki guilty. All of them. Were none of them Loki’s friends as well as Thor’s? “I do not suppose you have any evidence?”

“Loki has always been jealous of Thor!” Sif quivered with outrage. “He wants the throne for himself!”

“That is not true!” 

As his voice broke through the illusion, Loki appeared a few steps beneath Frigga, his back to the others, looking up to her with a stricken expression.

“It is not true,” he repeated. “I do not want to be king. I only wanted... I only want to be Thor’s equal. I want... I want to be seen as worthy!”

“Hey!” Fandral made a sudden realization of how their plans to go to Thor had been revealed, since obviously Heimdall hadn’t informed on himself. “Were you spying on us, you little snake?”

“Oh, Loki,” Frigga breathed, unhappily. “Did you do it?”

He dropped his crimson gaze to stare at her gold-embroidered slippers. “They were meant to be caught much sooner,” he muttered. 

“I knew it,” Sif hissed with vindictive triumph. “I knew it was you.”

“They never should have gotten into the Vault,” Loki ignored the others to spill his excuses to his mother.  
“There were only three of them. I thought the guard could handle them!”

“Then you should have told the guard to expect them, and not let them be caught off guard,” Volstagg pointed out.

“Unless you’re lying,” Hogun said, through clenched teeth.

“They shouldn’t have been caught off-guard!” Loki spun around to glare at them. “Being on guard is their JOB!”

They all stared in shock.

“All right, I’ll bite,” Fandral said with false cheer. “Why are you blue?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki argues with Sif, the Warriors Three and his mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay. I had a break-in and my computer was stolen. A lot of my free time is now being taken up with trying to burglar-proof my home.

The look on Loki’s face was strange, and it took Sif a moment to recall when she’d last seen it; it had been ages ago, when Loki had been much younger and less adept at magic. It had been when they and Thor had left him behind as an unwanted, useless little pest. Personally she still thought he was an unwanted pest most of the time, but his expression almost made her feel a little sorry for him.

Volstagg stepped in to save her from such softheartedness by asking Loki why he was wearing a dress, and the younger prince’s face regained its habitual hauteur, only more azure. The blood red eyes only enhanced the effect.

“It’s not a dress, you engorged imbecile, it’s a cloak,” he sneered, flipping back the item in question to display his normal, masculine attire. The cloak was most definitely not masculine, being of blue and gold silk in a pattern of birds and flowers.

“Fine,” Volstagg was like a hunting hound on a scent, “Why are you wearing a woman’s cloak?”

“Have you come up with some scheme where you prevent a war by disguising yourself as a beautiful frost giantess?” Fandral quipped. “Because I have to admit you make a fetching ice princess, but you’re still a little small, aren’t you? Won’t do any good to be pretty if they don’t think you can accommodate their enormous blue -” 

His jocularity was cut off by Loki going for his throat with a knife and a shriek.

Stepping in to block him, Sif drew her blade. Volstagg unslung his double-headed ax, and Hogun hoisted his mace. Only Fandral disdained to arm himself against his attacker, preferring instead to dance backwards, dodging hurled daggers and grinning.

“I’ll carve that smirk from your face!” Loki snarled, sliding under Hogun’s guard to follow Fandral’s evasion.

Frigga shot to her feet. “Stop this at once!”

The command should have been enough, Sif thought afterwards. Probably would have been enough if Fandral hadn’t pushed by blowing Loki a kiss, followed by a few pelvic thrusts to ram his point home.

Hissing, Loki took aim. Fandral’s shoulders bumped up against one of the tall pillars, and his eyes went wide as he realized he didn’t have time to duck more than one direction, and if he guessed wrong, he would be skewered. 

Sif shot forward, thinking to restrain Loki. Volstagg apparently had had the same idea, because they both ended up in the same space, weapons and feet tangled as they went down in an untidy heap.

Before she could push off the other warrior’s massive bulk, she heard a loud ‘thwack’, and turned to see Loki go flying backwards, the knife skittering from his grip.

Hogun let his mace fall to his side, looking surprised. Sif didn’t blame him. Despite how they all frequently taunted Loki for preferring to run than stand and fight, it was rare for any opponent to land a blow on Thor’s brother. He was quick and agile as a Midgardian mongoose, and half the time said opponent was wasting their time trying to bash an illusion. 

Not this time, though. Loki tumbled to a stop, rolled up onto unsteady feet. Blood spurted from his mouth and nose. At least, Sif assumed it was blood, but instead of crimson, it was blue. As blue as the blood they’d all spilled on Jotunheim. She stared, transfixed.

No longer acting the fool, Fandral stepped forward just in time to intercept the projectile that Loki flung at Hogun in retaliation. Fandral cried out in pain.

Sif, Frigga and the other two warriors cried out in shock and fear, rushing to his side.

A long, jagged blade of ice jutted from Fandral’s shoulder, almost exactly in the place of his just-healed wound. He looked down at it and grimaced. “By the Norns,” he groaned, “Not again!”

Their relief was cut short by a strangled scream from Loki. Back on his knees, he was staring in horror at the cobalt blood staining his hands and dripping to the floor from his face. His breath came in huge, gulping sobs.

“Loki.” Frigga started to go to him, but turned with the rest of them when the doors to the outer chamber opened. 

The guard captain came in and took in the scene. “May I be of any assistance, Lady Frigga?” he inquired, clearly thinking that this seemed to be the case, though he had not been called for.

“Yes,” Frigga sighed, moving to Loki’s side and pressing a dainty lace handkerchief into his hand and helping him staunch the bleeding. “Fandrel and my son need to go to the healing room. Discreetly.”

“As you command, regent.” The captain saluted. “The messenger you were awaiting has arrived. Should I have him wait?”

Sif could tell that Frigga wanted to. Loki was as distraught as she could ever recall seeing him, and it was obvious that his mother wanted to go with him and make certain he was all right, but she straightened and drew her shoulders back.

“No, Captain. I will see him as soon as you get Loki and these four to the healing room. They are to stay there, and not speak to anyone,” she ordered.

Impressed despite herself at the Lady Frigga’s dedication to duty, Sif moved to Loki’s side and helped him to his feet. His skin was cool to the touch, and up close, she could see raised lines covering his face and hands. Just like a frost giant, except for the giant part.

Pulling stiffly out of her grasp, Loki drew the hood of the flowered cloak up to hide his features. “Don’t look at me. All of you stop looking at me!”

Sif averted her eyes, more out of embarrassment for Loki’s loss of composure than because he’d ordered her to. It had been funny to rile Loki to the point of tears when they had been children. It didn’t seem at all funny now. 

She heard Frigga murmur softly to him, but when she turned back to look, Loki had disappeared again. From the annoyed, frustrated looks all around her, Sif could tell her friends had lost track of the trickster as well.

Putting the growing number of mysteries from her mind, Sif went to help Volstagg hoist a pale, bleeding Fandral to his feet. “You really need to stop doing this,” she teased.

“It’s a small price to pay for your gentle ministrations,” he grinned back, gasping a little.

“I’m going to ministrate to you in the practice ring until you learn to get out of the way faster, since you are incapable of keeping your mouth shut,” Sif promised, as the four(or is it five?) of them followed the captain of the guard away.

\-----------------

When they reached the healing room, they lay Fandral on the same couch he had previously occupied. Sif went for a basin and cloths to clean the blood away, while Hogun took on the task of carefully removing the icicle and Fandral’s armor.

The Einherjar captain took all this in dispassionately.

Hopefully, Volstagg inquired, “I don’t suppose you could send us something to eat while we’re waiting?” 

The captain raised one eyebrow at him, but simply replied, “Of course, my lord.”

“Some ale would not go amiss, as well,” Volstagg added, as the man turned towards the door.

“I’ll have the servants bring refreshments.” He turned back to the room and raised his voice to carry. “My prince, may I let your mother know you are being attended to?”

There was a pause, as everyone futilely scanned the room for its probable invisible occupant.

“Fine.” The gaudily cloaked and hooded figure appeared in the farthest corner of the room, facing away from all of them.

“Very good. I will return soon. Two of my men will be by the door to ensure you won’t be disturbed. They will bring in your dinner,” he promised, stepping out the door.

Shooting Volstagg a dark look, Sif said, “I do not believe you are thinking of your stomach at a time like this.”

“What is it you want me to do?” the overweight warrior argued. “Is there any reason we can’t eat while we figure things out?”

Giving up, Sif finished cleaning the last of the seeping blood away as Hogun crushed a second healing stone over Fandral’s chest. The wound closed to a thin pink line as the dashing warrior sank back in relief.

Finished with her task, Sif rose to stalk over to Loki.  
“Do you want to explain what’s going on?”

“Not really.” Loki had tended his own wounds, and washed away the alien blood from his face, but his clothes were spattered with dark purple stains. Oddly, they didn’t look that different from normal blood stains, just a little less brown. 

“Oh, come on. First you get Thor banished-”

“I did no such thing!”

“You let the frost giants into Asgard!” Sif pointed out.

“While that may have been a mistake, it was not what got Thor banished. You are more responsible for that than I am. You encouraged him to go to Jotunheim.”

“You went with us!”

“I tried to stop you!”

Searching her memory for any evidence of this, Sif drew a blank. “When?”

“I tried to- If I had asked Heimdall to open the Bifrost, he never would have done it.”

“You call that trying to stop us?”

Loki changed to a different argument. “I almost had Laufey talked into letting us leave!”

“He insulted Thor!” 

“So what? We weren’t supposed to be there in the first place!”

Dinner had been delivered while she tried to drag a straight answer out of Thor’s twisty younger brother and while Fandral had accepted only a cup of mead Volstagg was making deep inroads on the culinary offerings. But he was also listening, it seemed because he pointed a leg of pheasant at them both and joined the conversation. 

“Can we put all that aside for the time being and get back to the fact that Loki is blue?”

Sif concurred. “Yes. Why do you look like a small frost giant?”

From the corner where he had taken up a silent watch after healing Fandral, Hogun suggested, “Some kind of curse?”

Seeing Loki straighten from his slouch, Sif pressed, “Is it? Volstagg said he thought he saw one of them grab you, but you didn’t mention being hurt when we got back.”

Loki drew in a deep breath and nodded. “Right, it is some kind of curse.”

From behind them Frigga’s voice overrode this. “It’s not a curse. Loki, don’t lie about this.”

Loki spun to stare at her, as they all did. She had appeared through a secret door none of them had been aware of. At least Sif hadn’t been, and everyone did look as surprised as she felt.

Loki crossed his arms defiantly. “Why not? You did.”

Frigga sighed but touched his shoulder in a fond gesture. “Nevertheless, lying will not aid you now, and they need to know the truth,” she told her son.

“No.”

“What truth?” Sif asked, and was ignored as Loki and his mother argued.

“Yes.”

“No!”

“What?” Volstagg managed between mouthfuls.

“Loki-”

“What truth?” Grim Hogun growled.

“This is the worst possible time to tell anyone, especially them!” Loki all but shouted.

Fandral put his cup down and yelled, “Either tell us or go away! I am convalescing here and I have a headache.”

“Yes, Loki,” Frigga was implacable. “They have to know the truth. It is necessary.”

“Why?” Loki stared at his mother, looking as if she were sentencing him to a terrible fate. “Why could they possibly need to know?”

Frigga took both his hands between her own. “Because I am sending you to Jotenheim, and they are going with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone wants to know what is going on with Thor in the meanwhile, I figure some super-villain will be attracted to Thor's hammer, and with Jane and Erik and Shield all still being involved, Thor will figure it out without Loki's 'help'. We won't catch up with him till nearly the end, I think.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frigga explains, and makes Thor's friends an offer they won't refuse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a bit rushed, but I wanted to get something up this weekend. Sorry for the brevity and any errors I didn't catch.

“You’re banishing me to Jotunheim?” The room spun alarmingly, and Loki gripped his mother’s hands harder, feeling as cold as if he were already back in that frigid realm. 

This was so much worse than Thor’s punishment! Almost, he could imagine the All-Father doing such a thing, but not his mother. Was she that angry with him? Was she afraid of what would happen when the rest of Asgard learned of his true heritage?

“Mother, no, please! I’m sorry I let the frost giants in! It was only to show Father that Thor wasn’t ready-”

“No, Loki,” Frigga cut him off, “It’s not that. I need you to go as my negotiator. To restore our treaty.”

“What? Because I’m-” Loki found it hard to even say out loud, “Because of what I am, you think they’ll listen to me?”

Like the cawing of crows at the edge of his overwhelmed awareness, Loki noted that Thor’s friends were demanding answers. He ignored them, as did Frigga.

“No. I think they’ll listen to you because you are a prince of Asgard, and because you are Loki Silvertongue,” she smiled. “If they are more inclined to be cooperative because of your birth, all the better.”

Sif had had enough of being disregarded, it seemed. She all but stepped on Loki’s toes as she pushed between them. “Will one of you explain what is going on?”

Clenching his teeth, Loki refused to be the one to enlighten her and the Warriors Three.

For all that she’d kept the truth from him for so long, Frigga seemed remarkably casual when she said, “Loki is Jotun. Odin found him as an infant, abandoned after the battle on Jotunheim, and brought him home to join our family.”

The four were momentarily stunned, but their silence didn’t last long.

“I always knew there was something strange about him,” Hogun muttered sagely.

“You’re really a frost giant?” Volstagg queried. “Why aren’t you taller?”

“How should I know?” Loki snapped. “Why aren’t you thinner?”

“Wait a minute.” Fandral grunted with effort as he sat up straighter on the couch. He was still quite pale from pain and blood loss. “Why didn’t Thor tell us this ages ago?”

“Thor does not know,” Frigga explained. “The All-Father thought it best no one find out, at least not until the time was right.”

“How could you not tell Thor that his brother was Jotun? That he’s not really his brother?” Sif radiated indignation on behalf of her golden prince. 

Icy fury howled through Loki, and talons of ice formed on his fingertips, in answer to his urge to claw Sif’s self-righteous face. “I only found out when you dragged me off to Jotunheim! Of course, you probably believe he needed to know more than I did.”

“Yes! So he would know not to trust you!” she sneered.

“Sif,” Frigga’s beautiful features were livid with anger, “You will not speak so to my son.”

“He’s not your son! He’s not even Aesir!” Sif shouted back.

“Enough,” Hogun captured her elbow and dragged her back. “Calm yourself.” 

Loki’s hands curled into fists, driving the points of ice deep into his palms, giving him just enough control not to scream at her. His voice emerged low and dangerous. “You whining little bitch. You think I would ever do anything to harm Thor? How many times have I saved you all with my ‘tricks’?”

“Quite a few,” Volstagg clapped a hand on Loki’s shoulder. “I’ve always been grateful, too!”

Loki shrugged the hand off. “Not noticeably.”

Frigga raised her voice. “This is all beside the point!” Her eyes were pained but stern. “The dwarves, as a neutral party, have arranged with King Laufey for me to send an emissary. He will be sending his sons, Býleistr and Helblindi, as hostages until negotiations have concluded.”

He had known the names of Laufey’s sons, but now Loki was uncomfortably reminded that if he were also Laufey’s son, even if an unwanted runt, he had brothers he knew nothing of. He didn’t want to know them, or Laufey either.

“Mother, I can’t,” he pleaded.

“You can,” she assured him. “You must. Laufey asked for you specifically, and there is no one I trust more to do this.”

“He asked for me?” Loki frowned worriedly, remembering his partial transformation during the battle with the frost giants. He’d thought he’d killed the only witness, but he couldn’t be sure. 

“You did try to prevent an altercation,” Frigga reminded him.

“Well, I don’t trust him,” Sif stood beside Fandral’s couch, flanked by Hogun. Her chin jutted obstinately forward.

The other three looked less certain, but of course none of them leaped in to defend Loki from her scathing opinion.

“Why should we go with him?” Sif continued.

“You were eager to go with Thor,” Loki couldn’t help but point out.

“You are not Thor,” Hogun stated, without either heat or ice.

“We went to back Thor in a fight,” Fandral attempted to sound conciliatory. “We know nothing of diplomacy, Lady Frigga.”

“True,” Loki agreed, sotto voce. 

“You won’t be going as diplomats,” Frigga clarified. “You are going as Loki’s bodyguards.”

“Why not send the Einherjar?” Fandral asked, curiously. “They have actual training as bodyguards.”

“I think that might be preferable,” Loki allowed.

His mother tilted a half-smile at him. “I have my reasons. Trust me.”

Loki sighed. His mother wasn’t often cryptic, but she could be more devious than himself at times. It was where he’d learned it, after all and she had much more experience. She still frequently beat him at tafl.  
“When they get us all killed and the Jotuns invade, don’t blame me.”

“You will manage,” Frigga assured him, smiling.

“Lady,” Fandral let Hogun help him get to his feet to approach Frigga, “While I respect that you are in a difficult position-”

“I think I need a reason, if we are going with him,” Sif interrupted, insolently.

“My mother is regent. Is that not reason enough?” Loki countered.

“Clearly it is not, since you were all so willing to disobey the All-Father’s edicts,” Frigga said, stonily. “So I will give you a reason. If you will not go for Loki, who has aided you in many a quest, or for your regent’s command, or for the good of Asgard, which despite your ignorant beliefs would suffer if we have another war. If you will not go for any of these reasons, then perhaps you will go for Thor.”

“For Thor?” Sif asked, warily. “How is it for Thor?”

“If, after Loki has successfully re-established our treaty, Thor has not learned the lessons his father had in mind, I will permit you to go and assist him,” Frigga told them.

“Even though the All-Father outlawed this?” Hogun asked.

“Odin will not gainsay my decision,” Frigga vowed, regally.

“I would rather go alone,” Loki announced. “Or with some of the guard.” After all, what good could Sif and the Warriors Three be to him if they were only thinking about how they could get Thor back. 

To his surprise, Sif suddenly reversed herself. “We will go with Prince Loki.”

“And do all in your power to help him succeed,” Frigga reminded them.

Reluctantly, they all promised their assistance, which did not fill Loki with confidence.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arriving in Jotunheim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short chapter. I may not get the next one up till next weekend, but I wanted to get them to Jotunheim.

In the crumbling ruins of his great city, surrounded by a vast throng of his subjects, Laufey, King of Jotunheim, waited for Asgard’s delegation to arrive. His sons had already departed, hostages for the safety of those who had previously come uninvited and brought death and destruction with them yet again.

They had come for war, and he had been willing to give it to them, despite the costs. The old rage and bitterness had stirred to new life as he watched Odin’s arrogant child laughing as he slaughtered Laufey’s people. The All-Father had demanded it be overlooked as the act of a child, as if he had not planned to put the boy on his throne only a day earlier!

They had come for war, and he had meant them to have it until they choked on their lust for blood, but then one of his wounded warriors had sent for him, saying he had important information about Odin’s younger son. 

Laufey had struggled since then to recall the boy’s face. He had an impression of dark hair and unnaturally pale skin, and of gracious words. He remembered the younger prince urging his brother to go peacefully, but most of Laufey’s attention had been for Thor and his brash words, his presumptuous bearing.

High overhead, the sky swirled ominously. The wind blew across the plaza, carrying caught-up snowflakes to kiss against bare skin before sliding on. Blinding light burst forth, followed a heartbeat later by the rolling boom of the Bifrost opening. On the open ground, five figures were rising to their feet.

They had dressed more warmly this time, but as they warily approached, Laufey recognized four of them as Thor’s warrior companions, and knew many of his people did as well. They kept glancing worriedly around at the silent crowd, though they put on an air of aggressiveness. Arrogant little Aesir. 

They were right to fear. Laufey could sense his people’s anger, and their desire for vengeance. It was what he felt himself, watching them stride forward, armed and armored. They should be crawling, on their knees begging for their lives, for forgiveness that they would not receive. 

But though they richly deserved to die, he had pledged they would be safe, and put his precious sons and heirs in danger to assure it, all for the sake of the hooded figure who walked in front of them. For the sake of a wounded man’s glimpse of something strange. For the possibility of something he had long thought lost being found. The churning mix of hate, anger and hope burned in his gut, making it harder and harder to breath naturally as the dark-cloaked figure and his escort stopped a few paces from Laufey.

They all bowed low, and waited his command, so at least they had some manners, or else just self-preservation.

“Rise,” Laufey ordered, his eyes only for the emissary who rose with a dancer’s grace and pushed down the concealing hood. It was no Asgardian face that rose to his own. 

All around them, gasps and exclamations of surprise and confusion broke the tense silence. Behind him, Laufey heard his mate’s cry of joy and anguish. He struggled to think through the maelstrom of emotions. 

Odin’s younger son had a reputation for trickery and deceit. If this was a deception, Laufey would find a way to turn Asgard into a realm even more shattered and blasted than his own, but would a false face carry the clear lineaments of the royal house? Would this youth who did not know him have some means to fashion himself as the very image of a younger Fárbauti, writ small and delicate? 

“Your Majesty.” The boy’s voice was as he remembered it, clear and mellifluous, with a slight quaver of unease. “I am Prince Loki, of Asgard. My lady mother, regent in the All-Father’s stead, has sent me to entreat you to put aside your well-justified anger, seek lawful redress of your grievances, and establish a new accord between our peoples.”

Truly, the boy had a gifted tongue. Which people did Loki number himself among, Laufey wondered, as he nodded acknowledgement, if not agreement.  
“Be welcome to Jotunheim, Prince Loki.”

A soft footfall was his only warning, and Laufey was too conflicted to stop him as Fárbauti stepped past him, eyes aglow. He smiled down at the prince who he had once given a different name.  
“Welcome home, my son.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos and kind words, people! I really do appreciate the feedback!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Jotuns welcome Loki. He's not sure how he feels about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a little more for you guys.

Sitting at the seat of honor(hurriedly adjusted for his much shorter stature with the addition of two flat slabs of ice and a thick fur cushion) at a feast held in honor of his ‘return’, Loki could not help but wonder if he was dreaming, except he could not ever recall having any dream as strange as this. Not even that one about the flying pink bilgesnipes.

He hadn’t known what kind of reception he would find on this second and very different trip to Jotunheim. He had been prepared for them not to believe in his sudden transformation. Nor would it have surprised him if they had been angry and disgusted to see that an unwanted runt had survived and come back to trouble them. 

What he had not been ready for was for Laufey’s consort to greet him as ‘son’. In his wildest imaginings, he had not expected the entire crowd of hundreds of hulking blue monstrosities to all drop to their knees afterwards. If it hadn’t been so bewildering, Loki might have actually found that somewhat enjoyable.

Now they were throwing him a feast, and he did not know what to feel about that either. Not since he was a child had any feasts been held in Asgard for him. He had attended many, mostly in celebration of Thor’s exploits. 

Bravery and skill in close combat was what Asgard honored, and if Loki’s magic had often been instrumental aiding Thor and his friends in their battles, it was no more regarded than the smith who had made their weapons. Less, even, since seiðr was properly the pursuit of women, and most people thought him strange, at best, and when they thought there was no chance of word getting back to Odin or Frigga, they whispered ‘ergi’ behind their hands.

But surely, if he were to dream a feast, it would be one like he was used to, with long tables of dark, rich wood, draped in crisp white linen, piled high with platters and dishes and cups of mirror-bright silver or soft, lustrous gold. There would be roasted meat, and fresh-baked bread, and ripe fruit from many realms, all at the peak of perfection, all accompanied by wine and mead and ale.

The table laid out before him was nothing like that. The table itself was made of ice. Nearly everything was made of ice, in fact. The benches, chairs, platters and dishes and cups were all made of ice, as were the floor, walls and ceiling of the hall they ate in. Only Sif and the Warriors Three had cups of horn, which had been found for them when the warmth of their hands kept melting through their ice goblets. There was meat, but it was raw, minced fine and seasoned with a blend of strange spices. There was fresh fish, also uncooked, cut into elegant cubes and served with a dark, salty sauce. There were several types of mushroom, but no fruit or vegetables, or bread. The cold, clear liquor in the cups had no taste, but it was far stronger than mead or ale, and Loki only dared drink tiny sips of it, while all around him the Jotuns drank it as if it were water.

Though they kept pressing food and drink on him, Loki ate only to be polite. The food wasn’t bad, though it was totally unfamiliar, but his stomach was knotted with anxiety, and he was certain that throwing up at the table was a far worse breach of etiquette than not eating enough. 

After dinner, the Jotuns had music. There were no instruments, only deep voices, chanting along to rhythmic clapping and stamping. They sang songs about hunting, songs about wooing mates, songs about losing love. They did not sing songs about war. Loki wondered if that were for his sake, or if they had fewer songs about war than he was used to.

From the far end of the table, Sif watched him with even greater distrust than usual, while Hogun, Volstagg and Fandral looked at him as if they didn’t know him at all. The frost giants gave them space, distaining their company, and the feeling was obviously mutual. 

Loki wondered why his mother had insisted they come with him. He wanted to go and ask her. He wanted to ask her so many things. He wanted Odin to wake up and answer some questions, too. Mainly, though, he wanted to go home.

If this was a dream, he really wanted to wake up soon.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki explains his reasons for letting the frost giants into Asgard.

Sitting on the ledge of an open window, Loki gazed out over the wreck of a once-great city. When he had come here in his Aesir form, he had not seen much of their surroundings. Jotunheim had seemed murky and dark to him. Now he could see quite well. It seemed Jotun eyes were far better adapted to the dimmer light of their realm. Which only made sense, really.

Now he was able to make out color and detail, and though nearly every one of what had to have been tall and fantastic structures was now broken and occluded, there were enough remnants for him to see that once, the city had been beautiful. Asgard’s spires were of shining gold, but before they had fallen, Loki suspected that Jotunheim’s towers of ice had shone like diamond.

Looking at the much smaller, cruder structures that huddled in the ruins, he wondered why they had not done more to rebuild.

He did not turn at the scuff of boots on ice behind him that let him know that his ‘bodyguards’ had decided to join him. He had been given an extensive suite of rooms in Laufey’s palace, and Sif had insisted they be housed in the adjoining rooms, to ‘protect’ him. The servants had seemed offended at the idea, but had finally relented when Loki had urged them to acquiesce. His mother had wanted them along, and at least they were something familiar, when everything else was utterly strange.

“So you’re not just Jotun,” Sif challenged flatly, “You’re Laufey’s son?”

“So it would seem,” he replied, still looking out.

“And you expect us to believe you didn’t know that when you let the frost giants in to steal the Casket of Ancient Winters?”

“I really couldn’t care less what you believe,” Loki said, turning at last to face their oh-so-familiar suspicion and disapproval. “Though I will say that if I had planned for the Casket to be actually stolen, it would now be in Laufey’s hands. I know the Vault’s defenses very well, you know.”

“You didn’t know the guard very well,” Hogun pointed out.

“If I had planned for them to fail,” Loki ground out, “they would not have even been there. I could have easily put them to sleep or distracted them out of the way with an illusion.”

“Except that the All-Father would have sensed someone using magic that near to the Vault,” Sif maintained.

That was true, but Loki wasn’t about to admit it. After all, he could have come up with some better plan, with time to think, and anyhow, it wasn’t as if he had been planning for the damned thing to be stolen.

“How could you not know that you were Jotun?” Volstagg wanted to know. “I mean, it just seems strange!”

“No one told me, and I never changed before one of them grabbed me during the fight.”

“Yes, but how could you not just... know it, somehow?” the heavyset warrior pressed.

“I don’t know,” Loki sighed.

Sif’s breath fogged the air in front of her face and she pulled her fur-lined cloak tighter around her as she queried, “Do you think this act of them treating you like a long-lost prince is some kind of trick?”

“I have no idea,” Loki told her.

“Do you think you are really their long-lost prince? Can you use that somehow?” she continued.

“Again, I do not know.”

“What do you know?” she snapped.

“I know we are here to prevent a war.”

“Well, I do not trust you!” she hissed.

“That I do know,” Loki answered, leaning back comfortably against the carved ice of the window frame. “What I don’t know is why. Is it just because I cut off your hair?”

“Are you kidding? You’re Jotun!”

“You’ve never trusted me, even before any of us knew that. Don’t tell me that you could somehow sense it with your ‘woman’s intuition’?” he mocked.

“I don’t trust you because you are jealous of Thor! You’ve always been jealous of Thor!”

Slowly, Loki stood up, furious. “Jealous of Thor?” he repeated. “Of course I’m jealous of Thor! How could I NOT be jealous of Asgard’s perfect, golden prince? Everyone loves Thor! Everyone thinks Thor is wonderful and can’t wait for him to be king, even when he’s always doing stupid things! I was the one who actually paid attention to our lessons in statesmanship. I am the one who took the trouble to learn about the other realms and their subjects, and read history, and philosophy, and-”

“Like what?” Sif cut him off, mid-diatribe. 

“What?” Loki had lost track, a little. He scowled at her.

“You said Thor does stupid things.” She raised her chin, her pale brown eyes throwing sparks. “Name one.”

“The last time we were on Alfheim, sorting out that mess with the draugur, Thor told Frey’s whole court that it was a good thing Asgard was willing to protect them, seeing as how they are a bunch of weaklings.”

“They are!”

“The Ljósálfar and their magic are crucial to helping Asgard keep Svartalfheim from becoming a credible threat!”

Sif snorted, unconvinced. “That was one time, and it was ages ago.”

“Two years,” Loki countered. 

“What else?”

“Every single time he talks to a dwarf, Thor has to make some kind of joke about how they’ll all do anything for a profit.”

“Well, they will,” Volstagg joined in.

“That’s not the point,” Loki raised his voice. “A king has to practice diplomacy. He can’t just insult everyone like that and expect to be able to solve all his problems with that stupid hammer of his when people take offense!” 

“Maybe you should have mentioned your concerns to the All-Father,” Volstagg said.

“You think I haven’t tried?” Loki raged. “Every time I try to tell him, he says it is a good thing that Thor will have me to advise him on these matters! As if Thor ever listens to me when I say anything he doesn’t want to hear! I had to make him see it for himself!”

Sif was unmoved. “Alfheim was years ago, and making rude jokes to dwarves is no excuse for letting frost giants into Asgard!” 

“I let three frost giants through the dark pathways because two weeks ago, Thor informed the daughter of the Vanir ambassador that Hœnir was a mere puppet, and that as regent of Asgard, he would also be ruler of Vanaheim, because it was a conquered realm.”

After a long beat of silence, Hogun shrugged. “It is a conquered realm.”

Loki spat, “It does not have to STAY a conquered realm!”

Fandral, who could fence with words nearly as well as with swords, chose this moment to make a cut. “Neither does Jotunheim.”

Various answers died unspoken on Loki’s tongue as a clinking ice chime announced someone at the door.

“Yes?” he called, glad enough to end the argument.

The door swung open to reveal a tall but rather slightly built Jotun with lavender skin and short, curling horns. The plainness of his attire and deferential manner marked him as a servant of some kind.

“Forgive me for disturbing you, Gifted One,” the Jotun said, bowing, “but your sire wishes to see you.”

Though he didn’t feel at all ready to see Laufey, it was what he had come to do, after all. He took a deep breath to calm himself.

“All right,” Loki smoothed and straightened his clothes, wishing for a mirror, but there were none, and he was as ready as he was going to be. Maybe he could learn the answers to some of the dozens of questions piling up in his mind.

“Let’s go.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fárbauti tells Loki some things.

The Jotun servant escorted Loki to a chamber that was just small enough for intimate conversation, and decorated with more fabric and color than he’d seen elsewhere in the palace. Woven hangings, rugs and pillows of soft blues and greens softened the austerity of the ice that formed nearly everything else. 

It reminded him, just a little, of Frigga’s bower, so he was not entirely surprised when the Jotun waiting there for him was not the imposing Laufey, but elegant Fárbauti, his consort.

While the king had favored heavy ornaments of gold, Fárbauti was decked in delicately wrought silver. Dozens of thin chains and bands adorned neck, wrists and curling horns. Tiny hoops pierced ears and nipples, silver chains and wire were braided into long, pale blue braids, and scattered throughout were tiny jewels and bells. They glinted and sang as the consort rose to loom, unavoidably, above Loki. 

“Thank you for coming,” Fárbauti said. “Please, will you sit with me?”

With them both seated, the height difference was not so uncomfortable.

“The servant said my sire wished to see me?” Loki said, only tripping a little over the word ‘sire’.

“I did, yes,” Fárbauti replied, smiling.

Loki’s wits stumbled. “I thought Laufey was my father.”

“No, I bore Býleistr and Helblindi, and Laufey bore you,” the beautiful consort explained, still serenely smiling.

“You mean... Laufey is my MOTHER?” Loki blurted out.

The smile was exchanged for a slight, confused frown. “This surprises you?”

“Yes,” Loki flushed and admitted, “I thought Laufey was male.”

Fárbauti’s frown deepened. “There is no male or female among Jotuns. All of us have the ability to both sire and bear children.” 

A sharp look raked Loki, as if, through the layers of clothing, he could discern the shameful strangeness between Loki’s legs. Except, from what the Jotun consort was saying, it was not strange here. But still...

“Do you not know this?” Fárbauti said with concern. “From your own body?”

The shudder he had been suppressing escaped, and Loki swallowed hard before replying. “I thought... I thought I might be some kind of freak. I thought maybe that was why I was abandoned.”

“Abandoned,” Fárbauti repeated, in an ominously flat voice. “Who told you such a thing?”

“My father said he found me left to die, in a temple.”

Hissing through bared teeth, Fárbauti rose in a towering fury. “I am your father, and I swear if Odin Borson was here, I would cut out his lying tongue!” His bracelets and bells tinkled a merry counterpoint to his anger.

Loki kept very still, lest he flinch away. He was Loki, Prince and seiðmenn, Silvertongue and walker between the worlds. He did not flinch.

“Not abandoned?” he managed to inquire, in a light voice that he might use to inquire about the weather.

“Do the holier-than-thou Aesir do this thing? Leave babes to die in their most holy places?” 

“No.” It did seem a strange place, unless it was some ritual sacrifice.

“You were alone there, yes, but only because everyone within sight had been killed or gravely injured, myself included.” 

Fárbauti shook his head, then tossed back his horns like a ram issuing a challenge. “How dare he? How DARE he?!” 

He roared, and the Loki’s impression of him as being somewhat ethereal was completely overturned. There was a sinewy, supple strength there. Like me, he thought, allowing himself to recognize the similar features beneath the foreign blue skin. 

Since Loki did not know what Odin had dared, or why, he kept quiet. That his father, or at least the man he’d thought was his father, was an even greater liar than he’d guessed was deeply unsettling. Then again, there was still a chance that the Jotuns were the ones lying. Maybe he had been left to die, but now that he was a Prince, a power in the realms, they regretted that choice and wished to pretend it hadn’t happened.

Slowly, Fárbauti grew calm enough to sink back onto the couch opposite Loki. “What else did he tell you? Has Asgard poisoned you against us, or did the All-Father keep you completely ignorant?”

Both, thought Loki, but he only answered, “We did not get a chance to discuss it before he fell into the Odinsleep.”

Fárbauti’s lifted sky-blue brows invited further explanation.

“I thought I was Aesir, till just a few days ago. I thought I was Odin’s son.”

“You must be very confused.”

“Yes, very,” Loki felt an unwilling smile tug up the corners of his lips. 

Fárbauti echoed it. “Ask me anything you wish. You are owed a lifetime of answers.”

Sorting through the dozens in the forefront of his thoughts, Loki began with the two that concerned him most. “Why was I there, in the temple? And why am I so different?”

“You were in the temple because you were different,” his sire told him. “You were there to be dedicated as a goði. The first born to Jotunheim in over ten thousand years.”

The word was vaguely similar to other terms he had read of but Loki could not quite place it. “A.. what is a goði? A priest?”

“Mage-priest is perhaps the best translation,” Fárbauti told him. “It was a day of great celebration, until the armies of Asgard came pouring across the Bifrost. We thought they had killed you. When we found you gone, many of us thought they had come specifically to kill you. We thought we had a new hope, and then it was taken from us.”

“I don’t understand. How could you know I was a goði?”

“Because you were so small. Goði are always born so small, so that the people know to cherish and protect them, and teach them accordingly.”

“You mean, I’m small for a Jotun because I’m a mage?” Loki exclaimed. “I am the only Jotun alive this small?”

“Are you not a shape-shifter?” Fárbauti asked.

“Well, yes, but-”

“Then, if you choose to, can you not change your size if you wish?”

“Ah, umm. I suppose so,” Loki agreed, roiled anew at this thought. “At least, once the All-Father wakes.” At his sire’s quizzical expression, he reluctantly explained, “Fa- The All-Father bound my magic, just before he collapsed.”

“Because you learned of your true heritage?”

“Because I was angry in a place where anger is dangerous.” Loki changed the subject, not wanting to discuss Odin’s Vault, or the Casket of Ancient Winters. “What is so important about my being a mage-priest that you thought Asgard might want to destroy me?”

Leaning back, Fárbauti folded his long hands in his lap. “Goði were always rare among us, but their power allowed us to make our realm equal to any among the Nine. They changed the people, so that we did not suffer the cold. They tamed the worst of the storms and made the Casket of Ancient Winters, and used it to fuel even greater magics. They built the cities and went out among the stars to gain knowledge. Jotunheim was a place of great scholarship, once, and mages from every realm came to study with them.”

Loki stared at him. This was so far removed from all he had ever heard of Jotuns and their realm that it was if Fárbauti was describing another place and people altogether.

“Why have I never heard of any of this?”

The consort shrugged. “It was so long ago. When the last of the goði died and no more were born, our realm began to slowly fall behind. We have little to trade, and our world is inhospitable to other races. What we had been in ancient days no longer seemed important outside of Jotunheim. No one thought those days might ever come again.”

“So you invaded Midgard.”

“It is a rich world, and it’s people were primitives.” Fárbauti sighed, “Laufey is proud. He could not bear that our people had become so little regarded.”

That, at least, Loki could understand. As for the rest of it... “Even if I am a mage-priest, as you say, you couldn’t think I could restore Jotunheim on my own?”

“No,” Fárbauti assured him. “But for you to be born so soon after we had been defeated, and to the king...it seemed a sign of better days to come.”

“And then I was taken, along with the Casket.”

“We knew it was taken, but if we had known they had you, we would have demanded your return. Without a goði, the Casket is only useful as a weapon of destruction. It requires focus to be truly effective.”

Leaning forward, Fárbauti place a hand on Loki’s arm. “I am so grateful that you are alive and well, my son, but I will never forgive Odin Borson for taking you from us. He had no right.”

“He’s the only father I have ever known, and Frigga... She is my mother. I’m sorry. I cannot think of you and Laufey as my parents, even if you are. I just can’t.”

“Well, you are nearly grown,” Fárbauti drew back, smiling weakly. “We cannot retrieve what was taken from us. We must go on from here.”

“Yes,” Loki agreed, with equal measure of gratitude and regret. “Thank you for telling me these things.”

“Anything in my power to give you, I will,” Fárbauti promised.

“Thank you,” Loki said again. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to go back to my rooms. I need to think on this.”

“Of course.” Fárbauti rose and summoned a different servant to take Loki back to his rooms. “Please don’t hesitate to call on me.”

“I will.”

“Laufey will also want to see you. I persuaded him to wait. He is far more angry than I, and I was worried he would alarm you with his wrath.”

“Ah. Thank you again, then.” Loki felt deeply uncomfortable taking his leave, and was glad to escape. He hoped Sif and the others had taken themselves off somewhere. Nothing here was as he had imagined it. He was not who he’d thought he was, and he badly needed time alone to decide what to do next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see, I've departed significantly from the movie, making Loki the most treasured infant on Jotunheim instead of the unwanted bastard, but I like my version better. I regret nothing!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laufey and Loki talk.

“Do you feel it?” Laufey asked, his voice quiet with reverence as he and Loki stood in the Temple of the Void, where he had been found by the All-Father, and lost to the frost giant king who was his biological mother. “The power of your birthright. Or at least, what is left of it, with the Casket gone.”

Loki did feel it. The Temple, and especially the altar and the empty pedestal where the Casket was meant to lie, pulsed with a sweet and terrible power that sang in his very blood. His own magic flared and swelled in answer, straining painfully at the bindings Odin had placed on him. Unable to bear it for long, he stepped back till the pain subsided to an aching desire to be released, to immerse himself within the thrumming potential. 

“Where does it come from?” he asked, looking around the immense chamber. 

Like Laufey’s palace, the Temple was formed of fantastically shaped ice. Unlike the palace and the rest of what Loki had seen of the city, it had suffered very little damage from either the war or the slow destruction of time. Pillars of ice curved up to meet high overhead, and he could only tell that the ceiling was not open to the sky because he had seen it from outside. Stars shone down, seeming bright but unimaginably distant. The walls and ceiling were decorated with depictions of birds and beasts, vines and flowers, all so intricate and realistic, it was if they might be thawed out and spring to new life at any moment. The floor was mirror smooth ice, and shadowy shapes slipped past beneath the surface.

“From the Void,” Laufey replied, a hint of pride in his voice. “The Veil between what is and what is not is thin here.”

In his studies, Loki had read of the Void as the source of all things, including magic. It was not well understood, except for the many dangers of attempting to use it. He used it himself, drawing weapons and armor from seemingly nowhere, and to slide along the dark pathways between the realms, hidden from Heimdall’s watching eyes. 

“It is a magnificent working.” He looked up to find Laufey gazing down at him once more with a kind of hunger. It made Loki even more uncomfortable than the nearby pull of magic, or the chains on his own. “What do you use it for?”

“We don’t use it. We cannot,” Laufey answered. “We can use the Casket, a little, as a weapon, and to keep our realm from growing too warm or to abate the storms, but the Void is only for the goði. I myself cannot even sense it, though I know it is here.”

“Ah. I see.” Turning back to where the Casket was meant to be, he tried to turn the conversation away from himself. “Was the Casket meant as a weapon?”

“Never,” Laufey admitted. “I should never have tried to use it so. It is a tool to build great things, in the hands of a goði.”

“How?” Loki asked, surrendering to the king’s insistence on discussing the importance of the legendary mage-priests.

“You understand our ability to shape ice and the elements?” 

No, Loki thought, but he nodded so as not to lead the conversation down a new path. He had seen the frost giants create clubs and swords and even knives of ice. He had even done it himself, somehow, to send a blade into Fandral’s shoulder, but he couldn’t say he actually understood it.

“All of us can create small works. Usually nothing much larger than ourselves,” Laufey went on. “But with the Casket, such powers can be combined with its own, and channelled into far greater things. Our city was built with its power, as was this Temple.”

“So only Jotuns can use it?”

Laufey considered. “Anyone might use it as a weapon. When it is opened, it pours forth the coldest depths of winter, and without control, that cold will spread unceasingly.”

“Is that how you used it on Midgard? To try to cover the whole realm with winter?” Loki was acutely aware of Sif and the Warriors Three, hovering at the edge of the room, perhaps close enough to overhear. He had not wanted them to come, but they had insisted.

The king scoffed, “Is that how Asgard tells it?”

“Yes.”

“No doubt they portray themselves as noble defenders of the humans.”

“You didn’t mean to create a new ice age on Midgard and destroy all the humans?” Sif spoke up, and Loki turned his coldest look on her for her incredible lack of manners.

“They are small, frail creatures, it’s true,” Laufey admitted in a low rumble, “but not so weak as to be without use. We meant to conquer them and their world.”

Sif was impervious to Loki’s look. “Thousands of them died!”

“Did none die when Asgard took Vanaheim?” The king asked her. “And if defending the humans was their goal, what justification had they to invade Jotunheim once we had retreated from Midgard?”

“Deterrence,” Hogun spoke from the shadows. “Punish you enough that you wouldn’t try again.”

“Weaken us, you mean,” Laufey growled. “Like Asgard weakens all the other realms. Keeping itself the strongest through guile and theft and war when that doesn’t suffice.”

“That’s a damned lie!” Volstagg bellowed.

Loki, remembering all the stolen relics and trophies in Odin’s Vault, thought it might contain some truth. “Volstagg, shut up.”

“Asgard doesn’t need to make the other realms weak,” Sif denied hotly.

“Then why did they take the Casket of Ancient Winters?” Laufey demanded. “Why did Odin take my son?”

“I am sure he had his reasons,” she replied, stiffly. 

“Sif, you shut up too!” Loki snarled. “I was sent to negotiate. The four of you are just dumb muscle. Emphasis on DUMB.”

He was strangely heartened by Laufey’s soft chuckle, but Fandral, not able to stay out of it after his comrades had done their damage, tossed out, “So when are you going to get to it, already?”

“We have been here over a week,” Volstagg nodded.

Loki drew himself up loftily. “Diplomacy is a very sensitive business-”

“Just ask him what he wants so we can get this done and go look for Thor!” Sif ordered.

“Shut. UP.”

“What I want?” Laufey moved to stand over Sif, his stride and bearing that of a great cat. His crimson eyes considered her and his expression was not impressed. “I want my son back. I want all my sons back, and Asgard’s word to keep out of our realm.”

Loki’s heart lurched in terror. He’d rather thought that was what Laufey and Jotunheim would demand, so he’d put off asking in hopes they would change their minds.

Sif grinned like a fox. “So you keep Loki and get the other two back and we’re good?”

Reaching out, Loki managed to stop her from talking by incasing her whole head in ice. “Please excuse us, your majesty, we need to return to the palace and discuss some things.”” Loki said, taking a staggering Sif by the elbow and launching her towards the exit. The Warriors Three jogged after, thankfully silent. 

“You have my terms,” Laufey called after him. “Come see me after you’ve thought them over.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am happy to announce that I have finished the outline, so I am pretty sure of what is going to happen. With luck, the writing should progress a bit faster. I am thinking 20-25 chapters, total, but it may get padded a little more with things I think of later. 
> 
> Kudos and comments make my day, so if you like the story, please let me know!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki and his 'bodyguards' have a discussion.

When they were back in the privacy of Loki’s rooms, he rounded on a slightly frost-burned Sif and the others. “What is WRONG with you?! It is not your place to talk to Laufey, and you are not the one sent here to bargain!”

His so-called bodyguards looked at him with varying expressions of guilt and obstinacy. 

Sif took a seat and crossed her arms. “I’m sorry. But I couldn’t stand listening to him lie about invading Midgard. Besides, it has been over a week, and nothing seemed to be happening.”

“It’s really Norns-be-blasted cold here,” Fandral complained. “It’s been three days since I felt my feet!”

Volstagg expressed his main concern. “They never serve enough food! And what they do serve is raw! I need a decent meal.”

“We are worried about Thor,” Hogun finished.

“Anyhow,” Sif asked, “What’s the problem with his offer? You’re Jotun. You’re Laufey’s son. This is where you belong.”

“Where I belong?” Loki stared at her in furious disbelief. “I cannot believe that YOU of all people have the nerve to tell ME where I belong!” He stabbed a long finger at her breastplate. “You who refused to dress or act like a proper maiden. Why don’t I stay here and you learn to spin and weave and find a husband?”

Sif’s lips curled back in silent distaste, but she did not reply.

“But Loki-” Fandral began.

“NO! I am not some THING to be bargained with. I am not Odin’s relic. I am not Thor’s lesser brother, and I am not your tool. I will not do what I do not want to do, just to make your lives a little easier!”

There was an uneasy silence. Sif inquired neutrally, “What do you want, then?”

Deflating slightly, Loki ran his hand through his hair and started pacing. “I want to go home. Back to Asgard. I want to find out what is happening there, and I also want to know that Thor is well. I want to talk to Mother, and I need to discuss things with the All-Father.”

“This isn’t my place.” He raised his hands in frustration, gesturing at his blue-skinned face. This isn’t ME! They act as if I’m some kind of magical savior! They expect me to restore the lost glory of Jotunheim. It’s madness!”

They stared at him. He stared back.

“Can’t you just lie and get away later?” Fandral suggested. “You’ve pulled tricks like that plenty of times.”

“I can’t sneak away without my magic.” Loki sighed and rubbed his temples. “Anyway, that would just cause more problems later on. I’m supposed to be getting us a real treaty.”

“How?” Volstagg asked worriedly. “Laufey sounded very certain about what he wanted.”

Loki spun on his heel, staring at the far wall and thinking. He was clever, he was devious. He would not be trapped like this. 

But what to do? Laufey might be his mother, but he was being unreasonable.

Unreasonable, he mused, thinking of Odin, and Frigga and how he was used to dealing with his adoptive parents. A slow smile tugged at his lips.

“I am going to go talk to Fárbauti,” he annouced, heading for the door.

Even Thor had been clever enough to figure out this lesson. When one parent was being unreasonable, the best strategy was to go to the other.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki and Fárbauti make plans, but you know what they say about plans.

When he entered the consort’s chambers, Loki found the frost giant sitting at a large loom, weaving half a dozen complimentary shades of green wool into complicated knotwork pattern.  
“May I speak to you?” he inquired.

“Of course,” Fárbauti started to rise from his work, but Loki took a low stool beside the loom instead. “Don’t let me interupt. It’s a lovely design.” Up close, he could make out serpents twisting throughout.

“Thank you. Would you care for some tea?”

“No, I’m fine,” Loki assured him. He did not much care for what the Jotuns called tea. It was made by steeping a kind of bark in cold water, and flavored with berries. It was drinkable, but sour and bitter.

“Laufey already told me how he gave you an ultimatum in the Temple,” Fárbauti said, taking up his shuttle. “And he said that you bolted without giving him an answer.”

“Honored Consort,” Loki started.

“Fárbauti, please. Or I will call you Gifted One, and it will all be too formal to say sitting down,” he teased.

At least he doesn’t expect me to call him ‘father’. “Fárbauti, then. About Laufey’s offer-”

“I imagine you are feeling rather oppressed and have come to me in hopes that I can change Laufey’s mind,” the consort guessed, tilting Loki a knowing smile.

“Um. Well, yes.” There was a basket of wool by his feet, with a spindle. Loki took it up and began spinning, to have something to do with his hands. “I realize how-”

“It’s all right, child,” Fárbauti told him. “I have already explained to Laufey that we cannot force you to stay with us. We want you as a son, not as the price to some treaty.”

“He agreed?”

“Yes. He wasn’t happy, but I made him understand that our pressing you to stay with us would only make you frantic to escape.” His hands flew like birds over the clacking loom. “I imagine very little here is familiar or comfortable for you, and you don’t wish to be uprooted from your life and your friends.”

Sighing in relief, Loki nodded. He didn’t have many friends in Asgard, but that wasn’t something he wanted to discuss. He still missed his home, and his adopted parents. His room and his books, and his horse. He missed looking like himself, and being in a form where the heat of a fire was a pleasure. He even missed Thor. 

“Thank you, again. Does he have any other demands? I have the authority to offer a wide range of things.”

“Metal, probably,” Fárbauti said. “Easing trade restrictions.” He shrugged. “The main thing we need to discuss is who we are making this treaty with. Is it Odin or Odin’s son?”

“It is with the regent, in Odin’s name.”

“Will Odin approve, when he wakes?”

“Yes, as long as the concessions are within reason. I believe so. He does not want war.”

“So we should not ask for the Casket back?” Fárbauti quipped.

“As long as you don’t expect me to give it to you, you can ask.”

The consort’s face went serious. “It is ours, you know.”

“Maybe some day. I will talk to the All-Father about it.”

“And what of Odin’s son? If he is banished, who is next in line for the throne?”

“Well, it isn’t going to be me. A frost giant could never be king in Asgard, and the secret has to be out by now.” Loki found his temper was causing him to ruin the thread. He put the spindle aside and collected himself.

“Thor will be king, I think. Mother- Frigga said Odin made his banishment into a challenge of some kind. If he proves himself worthy, I think he will be allowed to return.” Clasping his hands together, Loki continued more slowly, “Thor does not fail at challenges. I always think he will, but he never has yet.”

“If he returns, will he keep your treaty?” Fárbauti asked, seriously. “He seemed eager for war when he came here.”

“I don’t know. I do not know what the All-Father wanted him to learn, in order to be worthy of the throne, but if it was starting a war that got him exiled, keeping the peace should be part of it.”

“He’s an arrogant boy,” the consort observed.

“Yes,” Loki agreed reluctantly. “But he has his good qualities.”

“Like what?” 

“Thor... Thor puts his whole heart into whatever he’s doing, whether it’s fighting or singing or being a friend. He is loyal, and brave, and he’s very protective.”

Fárbauti turned from his work and gave Loki his undivided attention. “Has he been a true brother to you?”

It was an impossible question, but Loki knew how to lie with the truth. “Yes.” 

“Will he remain a true brother when he learns of your true origins?”

Thor had once promised to kill all the frost giants. But he had also promised to keep Loki safe. They had both been children then. 

“It might be something of a challenge,” he smiled.

Fárbauti laughed. “I hope you are right, and I hope you can show me the better side of him someday.”

“I hope so too.”

Getting up, the consort poured himself a cup of the bitter tea. This time, Loki accepted his offer of a cup. It was bitter and sour, but it wet his dry throat.

Fárbauti sat back down. “Would you do something for me? For all of us?”

“What?” 

“Will you give us a year?”

“A year?” Loki quailed inwardly, and struggled not to let his lack of enthusiasm show.

Fárbauti seemed to sense it anyway. “Not now,” he hastened to clarify. “Asgard has been your home, and you left it in disarray. But later, once things have settled, will you come back and give us a year? You should have a chance to know your other brothers. Give me and Laufey a little time to hear about your childhood. Let us show you our world.”

It was not unreasonable, and Asgard might be much less of a home by the time he got back to it. But- “I don’t know if I want to be your goði.”

“If you do not want to once you have come to know our realm, and our people-” Fárbauti blew out a cool, heavy sigh. “Well, we could hardly force you. I will talk to Laufey about it, and make him understand.”

A weight seemed to lift from Loki’s heart. A year was no time, really. He did want to meet Býleistr and Helblindi; it might be interesting to be the older brother for a change.

“All right. After the All-Father wakes, and the situation with Thor is settled, I will come back for a year.”

“I will talk to Laufey about the treaty and have a draft finished by this afternoon. Will you dine with us tonight?”

“I would be happy to.”

_______

By the next afternoon, all the agreements had been finalized, and Loki and his bodyguards were ready to go. 

After making his farewells, once again repeating his promise to return as soon as could be arranged, he allowed the now much more cheerful Sif and company to hurry him along to where the Bifrost would open. 

A large crowd of frost giants had gathered to see them off, but they kept back to allow plenty of room. A roar of approval at the sight of him went up, and Loki could not help but be reminded of his last departure from Jotunheim, encircled by an army closing in with menace. Unimaginable, then, this crowd now.

Lifting his face, Loki called on Heimdall to open the Bifrost.

Nothing happened. The sky stayed clear and the stars shone down.

He called again. Again.

The crowd, sensing something was wrong, grew restless and moved in closer, murmuring.

Loki cursed. “I know that bastard doesn’t like me, but he can’t get away with stranding me here.”

“Maybe he’s asleep,” Sif suggested, staring up at the empty sky.

“There are spells to wake him if he’s needed,” Loki told her.

“Maybe he’s just off to take a piss,” Volstagg said. “Even he has to take a piss sometime.”

Loki and the rest of the party gave this the look it deserved.

They tried again, and waited. They waited some more, then tried again.

The nights were not much darker than Jotunheim’s dim day, but they were colder, and the wind changed from sighs to shrieks. It did not bother the Jotuns. It didn’t affect Loki. But the Aesir suffered, and so they retreated back to the palace.

In the morning, when the Bifrost still stayed closed, they had to admit that something had gone very wrong.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay. Real life got busy on me. It takes me a ridiculously long time to write these short little chapters.

Over breakfast, they discussed what to do next. Laufey began the meeting with bad news. “I was able to contact Nidavellir earlier. The dwarves refuse to get involved.”

“Which likely means they are already involved,” Fárbauti said, pouring fresh tea all around.

Loki frowned. “They wouldn’t tell you anything?”

“You did offer to pay them?” Volstagg asked.

“Of course,” the king replied.

“For their help, or for information?” Loki queried. 

“For both. Though Jotunheim has very little in the way of gems or minerals, we do have a few artifacts in which they have shown an interest. I made a very generous offer, just for some answers. King Eitri refused.”

“That is not good.” Loki toyed with his food. He was much too worried to eat.

Next to him, Sif fumed fit to melt the room. “Those treacherous little bastards.”

“I don’t much care for the dwarves, but I thought they always honored their bargains,” Fandral said, puzzled. “They arranged for us to come here. Don’t they have to make sure we get back?”

“I’m not sure what bargain Moth- the regent made with Eitri,” Loki said, seeing Laufey’s expression darken slightly at his slip. “Do you?”

“No. I presumed they were simply acting as messengers.”

Massaging his aching head, Loki sighed. “There was no reason they should have been asked to do more.”

Pushing aside his empty plate, Volstagg groaned. “Is there no other way to contact Asgard?”

“I have seldom had need to speak with the All-Father.” Laufey’s voice was flat and cold as a glacier. “But when I have had need, I merely spoke it aloud. Heimdall the watcher sees all, or always has until now.”

“Something has happened. We must get back.” Hogun’s statement of the obvious drew annoyed looks from most of his audience.

“That is what we are trying to do,” Loki shot back.

“Hogun, my friend, I think your brains have frozen,” Fandral teased. “Though maybe better frozen brains than feet.”

“We need a plan!” Hogun insisted. “Now!”

“True,” Loki folded his hands on the table and looked to Laufey. “What options do we have? Jotunheim must have some trade, or at least contact with the other realms.”

“Very little. Most of our trade is with the dwarves and the dark elves.”

“So you have a way to get to Svartalfheim? Or do they come here?” Loki asked. The dark elves were Asgard’s enemies, though there had been no actual fighting in centuries. 

“They come to us. I do have a gem for contacting them.” 

Fárbauti sat forward, his silvery bracelets and bells chiming softly. “I do not recommend it. You should not put yourself in their power.”

“I would not like to,” Loki agreed, his fingers returning to his throbbing forehead, trying to rub away the headache. “What about the Ljósálfar?”

“We have no trade or concerns with them, though they do sometimes come, exploring and exchanging songs and tales.”

“Often?” Fandral said hopefully.

“Seldom,” Fárbauti replied. “They do not love the cold.”

“I don’t care for it either,” Fandral muttered.

“Is there nothing else we can try?” Loki pleaded. “We must get back.”

“There is a portal to Muspelheim, but we cannot go there. We cannot survive the heat.”

Sif looked up, eagerly. “We’ve been there before. We can survive it.”

“The fire demons were another matter, though,” Volstagg grumbled.

“We had Thor with us,” Hogun said, slowly, as if he was unsure of their ability to overcome hordes of raging fire demons without Thor, but he hated to admit it.

“I had a great deal to do with our escaping, if you’ll recall,” Loki reminded them. “I can do it again.”

“Not as you are now,” Fárbauti said. “Not without your magic, and your ability to shapechange. You must not go there in your Jotun form.”

“Damn it!” Loki snarled, slamming his fists against the table. The ice cracked and starred under the impact. “We can’t just sit here!”

He turned to Laufey. “Contact the dark elves. I can tell them something that they’ll want to hear. Promise them access to Odin’s Vault. I’ll tell them I want to be king, that I’ll help them kill the All-Father if they’ll help me get back there. I can make them believe that.”

“Loki!” Sif shot up from her seat.

“What? It’s just a trick!”

“Bad idea,” Hogun crossed his arms, looking grim as always.

“Look, I know you warriors prefer to bash things head on, but we have got to get back to Asgard, and this isn’t a problem you can solve by hitting it.”

“I think the problem is that everyone back on Asgard is likely to believe it, too,” Fandral explained. “And whatever is going on there, you showing up looking like a Jotun and in the company of dark elves isn’t going to win us much of a welcoming party.”

“The regent will believe me,” Loki insisted stubbornly.

“Yes, but-” Sif trailed off.

Fandral picked up the thread, “She won’t be able to convince anyone else, though.”

“They will say she cannot look past her love for you to see the truth,” Sif told him. 

Loki growled wordlessly. 

“What about Midgard?” Fárbauti suggested, breaking the tension.

“Midgard?” Vostagg echoed.

Loki turned, arrested. “What about it?”

“There is a passage in the mountains. At least, I assume it is still there. It is how we invaded.”

“Thor is on Midgard,” Volstagg and Hogun spoke almost in chorus.

“We don’t know where, and I doubt he’d be much help if he hasn’t recovered his power,” Loki argued, shaking his head.

“Maybe he has. Lady Frigga said she thought he could,” Fandral spoke eagerly. “And if he hasn’t, we’ll think of a way to help him.”

“If he has, he might already be back in Asgard, and going to Midgard would just waste time we do not have.”

Sif put a hand on Loki’s arm. “We have to try. Please, Loki.”

“We don’t have time!”

“We don’t know that!”

Loki brushed her off. “I am sick and tired of the four of you caring more about Thor than anything or anyone else! Odin could be dead! Moth- Frigga could be in danger! All of Asgard might be at risk, but all you can think about is Thor, Thor, Thor!”

Pale with fury, Sif set her mouth into a thin line and stared angrily at him.

Fandral attempted, “Look, Thor and the four of us can get through Muspelheim. It’s the best plan we’ve got.”

“It will take too long. Working with the dark elves will be much faster!”

Surprisingly, Laufey weighed in against this plan. “If the Svartálfar find out you are a goði, they will take you prisoner. Jotunheim would be forced to make nearly any concessions to have you returned safely.”

“But-”

“So it’s settled?” Fandral smiled merrily. “We go to Midgard?”

“Fine,” Loki conceded with ill grace. “We’ll go look for Thor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki went all Jan Brady on me here. Marcia! Marcia! Marcia!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laufey and Loki have a mother-son talk.

The king of Jotunheim’s rooms, like his consort’s, displayed what little wealth there was to be had in the resource-poor realm by containing items not made of ice. But like the king and his mate, the personalities reflected were very different. Where Fárbauti’s rooms were decorated with color and bright, soft fabrics, Laufey’s were filled with decorations of stone and metal. The seats and tables were of carved stone, with more stone and ivory sculptures scattered around. Gleaming steel and starmetal weapons hung on the walls; Loki suspected they were battle trophies, as they were not sized for Jotun hands.

“I wish I were going with you,” Laufey sighed, when Loki joined him in his private chambers. “Things are too unsettled to leave my people without a leader, with some unknown power at work in the realms, but I’ve had so little time with you.”

Dwarfed by the huge basalt chair he sat in, Loki tried not to feel like the child Laufey clearly saw him as. 

“I will come back, as soon as I’m sure everyone is all right. We’ll have a whole year for you to find out how much trouble I can be,” he joked weakly.

“I hope so.” Laufey’s smile did not quite seem at home on his stern features. “For all that Býleistr and Helblindi sometimes cause me to want to strangle them, I love them both dearly.”

“I’m sure they are safe,” Loki answered the question Laufey had not quite asked. “They would have been in the Raven Tower. It’s the most fortified part of Odin’s palace. And why would anyone want to harm them? They are too valuable as hostages.”

“Yes, Fárbauti says the same, but I know he is also worried. I cannot help but feel this dread, as if Asgard will end up taking all my children from me.”

“If Frigga can do anything to prevent it, she won’t let any harm come to them. And I will come back,” Loki promised. “At least for the year.”

Laufey did not look reassured. He leaned back in his own chair, his crimson gaze hooded. “I cannot lose them as well. I cannot.”

“You won’t.” Loki hoped this was not a lie.

“My son,” Laufey spoke in a low voice, “Can you ever forgive me for losing you? If I had known that I was with child... If I had known- I would never have started a war. I would never have put you at such risk.”

Some strong emotion suddenly clogged the back of Loki’s throat, and he had to swallow hard several times and take a deep breath before he trusted his voice. 

“There is nothing to forgive,” he lied, and only knew it for a lie as he said it. How could he be angry about that, and still want to go back to Asgard? He was still deeply angry with Odin, for his lies, and for making Loki mistrust his love, but deep down, he still wanted that love, and Frigga’s. It was foolish to resent having lost something he hadn’t even known of and didn’t want now.

Laufey knew better it seemed. “There is. If not for my folly, my pride, you would have grown up here, where you belonged. Where you would be loved and honored, with your true family.”

“I have been loved.” Loki knew it was a risk to say so. His birth mother’s envy towards Frigga in particular was easily aroused, but he couldn’t let it pass unchallenged.

“But not honored,” Laufey replied, his eyes smoldering with repressed anger. “I have heard enough talk to know that. The Aesir call you a liar, and unnatural. Even those that accompanied you treat you with disrespect.”

Bowing his head, Loki did not deny it. “I am glad to find there was a reason why I felt out of place. But maybe some good will come of it.” 

He forced a shrug. “If I had been raised here, honored as you seem to think I deserve, Helblindi and Býleistr would probably be mad with jealousy, like I sometimes am with Thor.”

The idea seemed to startle Laufey. “You are jealous of Odin’s son? Why? Did Odin favor him so much, while claiming you as his own?”

“I would have said so, at times,” Loki admitted ruefully, “But it was probably unfair. Thor... You could think of Thor as Asgard’s version of a ‘Gifted One’, I guess. He’s the embodiment of their ideals.”

“Arrogant and bloodthirsty?”

“Brave and forthright,” Loki corrected with a twisted little smile. “And very good in battle.”

Laufey snorted. “No one of your talents need be jealous of that.”

“I wasn’t jealous of his skills. I just resented that mine weren’t as valued.” Shifting position, Loki faced Laufey more directly. “I think your other sons may find it hard having a goði for a brother. Maybe it will be a good thing for us to meet now we are all old enough to maybe understand why.”

“Perhaps,” the king allowed, sounding unconvinced.

“I will forgive you for starting the war, if you forgive me for nearly restarting it,” Loki offered, hesitantly.

“By offering to help some of our people recover our sacred artifact?”

“So you did know it was me?” It was a relief not to have it hanging over his head any longer.

“They came to me and told me that Odin’s younger son was willing to plot against him.” Laufey poured himself a goblet of the strong, clear liquor, and offered some to Loki, who accepted a much smaller amount.   
“I told them they were fools, but I did not try to stop them.” He took a long sip and looked at Loki. “I take it you were not plotting against the All-Father?”

“No.” A tiny sip of the fiery stuff melted away some of Loki’s tension, and eased the headache that had become nearly constant over the past few days.

“Why, then?”

“I didn’t think Thor should become regent. I knew how he would react, overreact, to- I knew he would challenge Odin’s methods as too soft. I thought he would be a terrible regent.” 

“And you were jealous?” Laufey asked softly.

“And I was jealous.”

A little sick at the memory of the carnage that had resulted, and the even greater bloodshed only barely averted, Loki shivered and took a larger swallow.   
“It wasn’t supposed to go that far. I thought I could control events. Like playing tafl.” 

Finishing the glass, Loki held it out to Laufey for more. Laufey poured a more generous amount this time, and he took mouthful, letting its heat slide down to spread from his stomach to his whole body. It was blissfully relaxing.

He continued, a bit fuzzily. “I’m very good at tafl, and I am good at lies, and I am often good at getting people to do what I want, for a little while, at least.” 

Loki decided that the oversized stone chair was possibly the most comfortable seat ever, as he let his body melt into its curved support, drinking again. He also decided he was going to take a flask or two of this wonderful stuff back to Asgard with him when he went.

“But real life isn’t like tafl, is it?” he mused, closing his eyes. “When you make mistakes, real people get hurt.”

“A difficult lesson,” Laufey’s voice rumbled. “I did not learn it until I was much older. You’ve managed before your horns even emerged, if only just.”

“What?” Loki opened his eyes, looking at Laufey’s blurry face in confusion. 

“I said it you were young to be so wise, my son.”

“No, no,” Loki struggled to a more upright position. “About the horns?”

“Yes?”

The conversation had gotten off track somewhere. Loki hunted for his train of thought, and reached up to rub his forehead, which thankfully wasn’t aching at the moment. It felt strangely knobby, though.

“I’m growing horns?” he cried, dropping his ice goblet to crack in two and spill the tiny remainder of its contents on the floor.

“You are Jotun,” Laufey said patiently. “And you are coming of age.”

“I don’t want to have horns!” Loki pressed the bony knobs as if to push them back down. 

“Why not? It is a mark of adulthood, and I am sure they will be striking.”

“Aaaaauuuuugggh!” Loki fisted both hands in his hair and fell back, banging his skull hard enough for the pain to register through the alcohol-induced haze. Stars burst across his vision, and a tiny whimper escaped.

Catching him before he could fall, Laufey steadied him and checked him for injury. “Are you all right?” he asked, not letting go.  
His huge hands were cool and gentle. A mother’s touch with a father’s strength. 

Loki resisted, but was not released. “I don’t want horns,” he repeated, petulantly.

“Shhh.” Laufey leaned down and kissed his forehead. “They will be beautiful. You will see.” 

“I will not, either.” Loki tried to stand up, but his knees refused to lock. “Noooo.”

“So much for wisdom,” Laufey sighed. “Yours and mine both.”

He lifted Loki up. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Instead of taking Loki back to his suite, the king placed him on his own bed, tucking him into a nest of soft furs and sitting next to him.

Feeling unwontedly safe, Loki let sleep take him.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki gets a very unexpected visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating change, everyone!! We are now at least PG, Teen & Up, and may be headed into Mature. I had no idea this was going to happen. It's out of control.

It had taken three days of hard travel by wolf-drawn sleds to reach the beginning of the mountains, and the party had stopped for the night in a small settlement to rest and resupply before starting the more difficult and dangerous part of the journey.

Upon learning that not only the Consort, but Laufey’s long-lost goði son had arrived on their doorsteps, the innkeeper, as well as what had seemed every other inhabitant of the place had felt compelled to exceed anything resembling mere hospitality, bringing out so much food that even Volstagg’s appetite had been sated. 

Every household also insisted on offering gifts, all the while apologizing that they had nothing more worthy, as Loki graciously accepted such offerings as jars of pickled fish, seed cakes held together with suet, thick, soft furs, a well-crafted bow of horn with a quiver of arrows, carved bone jewelry, salt, dried berries, and skeins of dyed wool. 

Though they had all been exhausted and wanted nothing more than to get some sleep before going on in the morning, there had been no polite way to refuse, so the feasting and singing had gone far into the night.

Loki had only just drifted off to sleep when raised voices outside his door roused him. Moaning, he burrowed deeper into the furs, hoping the voices would go away soon, but they not only didn’t go away, they got louder, and he could now make out words.

“I must speak with the Gifted One!” one voice insisted, in a clear, commanding contralto. “It is urgent!”

“The Gifted One is resting,” a surly bass replied, continuing in a sneer, “And he has no business with the likes of your kind, anyways!”

“I don’t give a damn what you think about ‘my kind’, but I have to see him. He’s in danger!”

Loki’s attention was doubly caught; if he was in danger, he definitely wanted to know about it, and if there was a ‘kind’ of Jotun he wasn’t going to associate with, he would decide it for himself. The contempt in that second voice had reminded him entirely too much of certain Aesir who had spoken of him without knowing he was a prince, and not to be insulted.

He had just dragged himself upright and taken two steps for the door when a series of thumps, bangs and yells let him know that the argument had proceeded to blows. He was just reaching for the door when it shattered into a hundred icy shards under the impact of a frost giant being hurled through it.

Dodging hurriedly, Loki turned to see the sprawled form as the innkeeper, Egil, shaking his head and trying to get to his feet. 

He heard someone coming through the door and spun to face Egil’s attacker, reaching instinctively for his knives, which of course he had not been wearing in bed. All thoughts of self-defense and his lack of weapons vanished as he came face to chest with a magnificent pair of large, full, cornflower blue breasts, each tipped with a perky indigo nipple. The unexpected yet wondrous sight unhinged his jaw and caused his brain to seize.

“Gifted One,” the breasts heaved, causing necklaces of ivory and bone beads to sway mesmerizingly between them, “Forgive me for disturbing you, but I must speak to you!”

“Um.” Loki dragged his eyes up to the horned, blue, undeniably feminine face, wreathed in a long mane of copper tresses. 

“What’s going on?” Sif demanded, erupting into the room and coming to an abrupt stop at the sight of the frost giantess.

“You unnatural freak!” Egil hissed, at last regaining his feet and looking daggers at Loki’s unexpected visitor.

Fárbauti was the next to appear, his hair and attire in disarray. “Loki, are you all right?” He blinked at the strange female. “Who are you?” 

Then Fandral slipped in, his face lighting up. “Well, hello, lovely lady.”

The inn was not large, and it appeared they had gained the attention of everyone on the upper floor, which was most of Loki’s traveling party, and they were now all trying to crowd into his not-very-large room and either stare at his bare-breasted intruder or demand to know what was going on.

“I’m fine, I’m fine!” Loki assured everyone. “This.. person just needed to speak to me. Everyone can go back to bed.”

“Surely you wish your bodyguard to stay?” Fandral leered. The body he had in mind didn’t seem to be Loki’s.

“We can’t leave you alone with her,” Sif objected strenuously.

“Certainly not,” agreed Volstagg. “She’s clearly dangerous.”

“I think I need an explanation for this,” Fárbauti proclaimed, crossing his arms.

“Gifted One,” Egil objected fiercely, “You needn’t concern yourself with such a creature. I run a respectable establishment here, and I assure you such as he are not welcome here.”

He? Loki frowned in confusion. Fárbauti had said there were no male or female Jotuns, that they were all, like himself, able to sire or bear children, but every single Jotun he had met looked relatively male to him. Certainly he hadn’t seen any others with breasts like ripe, luscious fruits, or sweetly flaring hips wrapped in soft fur skirts, instead of a loincloth or trousers.

“I don’t have any interest in your shabby little inn,” the intruder informed Egil, raising her chin. “I assure you I would never have set foot in this ignorant, backwater place if it weren’t a matter of life and death.”

Loki sidled up to his sire. “I thought you said there weren’t female Jotuns?”

“There aren’t,” Fárbauti said, “But there are-”

He was interrupted as the not-female, or not-Jotun, despite appearances to the contrary, solved two problems at once by tossing an overly-amorous Fandral into the path of Egil, who was charging at her with a bellow. The resultant crash broke Loki’s bed, scattering ice, snow and furs everywhere.

Sif and Vostagg went to help their friend. Hogun had taken up a station beside the door, but an expression of amusement had briefly overtaken his normally dour features.

Fárbauti moved to both assist and calm the innkeeper, finally sending him off to get his gawking family, guests and staff to all clear the hallway and get back to their own business.

Loki had more trouble getting rid of his Aesir companions, and in the end he had agreed that Sif could stay, after which she allied with him in getting the Warriors Three out.

When relative peace was regained, Loki settled into a chair and attempted to project an air of calm authority. “You said you came to warn me about being in danger?”

“Yes, Gifted One.” 

“Just Loki, please.” He was getting tired of the title, having no gifts to speak of with his magic bound, and feeling more obligated to Jotunheim to live up to their expectations every time he heard it.

“What danger?” Sif asked, looking half impressed and half scandalized by the frost giantess.

Shoving back her hair with both hands, their caller took a deep breath. Both movements riveted Loki’s attention thoroughly, and he was glad that he was sitting down. He folded his hands in his lap, casually.

“I know this is going to sound strange,” she announced, “But if you don’t take me with you, you are going to die.”

“You’re right,” Sif agreed. “That does sound strange.”

“Just who are you, anyway?” Fárbauti challenged.

“I am Angrboða, from the Iron Wood.”   
“I see,” Loki’s sire considered briefly, then turned and sealed the door with ice, before creating a shining ice table, benches, and a chair conveniently high enough for Loki, with a step to climb up to it.

“Why don’t you have a seat? I think we should talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally, I had planned for Loki to meet an original character, a Jotun of his own age that he would befriend, but Angrboða strolled into my head and said she was going to be involved. There was just no way I was going to argue with her.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angrboða explains herself.

As they all settled at the table, Fárbauti turned to Angrboða. “Before we get started, would you mind changing? The shape you are wearing is very distracting.”

Loki straightened with interest, looking keenly at Angrboða. “You are shape-shifter?”

She scowled at Fárbauti, her carmine eyes flashing. “I prefer this shape.”

“You said there weren’t any other Jotuns who could do magic,” Loki complained to his sire. Why were his parents always lying to him?

“Changing shape isn’t magic,” Angrboða protested.

“Yes it is,” Loki contradicted, determinedly. 

“It sounds like magic to me,” Sif muttered.

“Well, maybe it is, a little,” Angrboða was willing to admit. “But it’s not like real magery.”

Loki put that aside to explore later. “So are there many Jotun shape-shifters?” 

“There are where I’m from,” Angrboða shrugged, and it was quite distracting. “At least half my cousins can change into wolves,” she grinned, rather wolf-like herself.

“And now that we have that settled,” Fárbauti interrupted in a tone no less accustomed to giving orders than his mate’s, “Angrboða, please change back to your normal form.”

She crossed her arms. “Why?”

“Because Loki was raised in Asgard, believing he was Aesir and male, and he is having difficulty enough adjusting without people like you complicating things,” Fárbauti replied with thinning patience.

“People like me?” she repeated, sweetly venomous.

“Are there many others like you, who shape-change into one gender?” Loki asked, hopefully. 

She turned to study him, and the anger faded from her expression. “There is no one like me,” she answered, lightly. “But there are few others who can take this form.”

Then her body blurred and shimmered, and she was a he. The breasts were gone, leaving a smooth, muscular chest. The shoulders were broader, the face more angular, but still undoubtedly the same. He smiled broadly at Loki’s rapt fascination.

“Thank you,” Fárbauti said stiffly. “Now, let’s talk about what you are doing here.”

“I told you, I have to go with the Gifted One, or he is going to die.” Angrboða’s voice had deepened somewhat with the change.

Fárbauti looked mistrustful. “What makes you think so?”

“Look,” Angrboða shifted restlessly in his seat, tracing frost patterns on the table, “I have a small gift for prophecy. A few weeks ago, I had a true dream. I dreamed that someone important was traveling up through the mountains, and that someone died because I was not there.”

“Do you have any proof of this?” the Consort demanded.

Loki could not understand why Fárbauti seemed so hostile towards Angrboða; he had been more polite than this to Sif and the Warriors Three. Was there a taboo against shape-changers, or just against those who took on a female form? 

“You could inquire around the Iron Wood,” Angrboða answered. “I’ve got somewhat of a reputation there. Or you could consider that I am here, and the Iron Wood is three weeks travel from here, and even farther from the capitol. I didn’t even know who my dream was about until I got here and heard the Gifted One had stopped on his way into the mountains.”

“We only have your word that you came from there.”

“Can we afford to take a chance?” Loki broke in. “Why shouldn’t she... he come? At least into the mountains?” 

Turning to Angrboða, Loki asked, “Do you even know where we are going?”

“The mountains is all I know.”

“We’re going to Midgard.”

“Midgard?” Angrboða turned a shocked expression to a disapproving Fárbauti. “But that violates the treaty with Asgard!”

“Only Loki and his Asgardian escort will be going through the passage. The rest of us are merely going to get him safely to the passage.”

Angrboða still looked worried. “Loki’s going doesn’t violate the treaty?”

“He is here officially as Asgard’s representative, so probably not.”

“Asgard’s-” Angrboða shook his head, confused. Looking up sharply at Fárbauti, she asked, “Isn’t the passage somewhere in Lord Thrym’s lands?”

Fárbauti nodded. “Yes, it is.”

“But he despises everything to do with Asgard.”

“I thought all of Jotunheim despises Asgard,” Loki said.

“Not like Lord Thrym,” Angrboða told him, seriously. 

“Thrym will not defy his king’s orders,” Fárbauti insisted. “And he would not dare to harm a goði.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself. “Besides, the passage is nowhere near his stronghold. We should be able to avoid him altogether.”

“Look, I don’t know much about what’s happening, but I know I need to be there. Please.”

“Why does it matter to you?” Sif suddenly asked. “You dream someone you don’t even know is going to die, and you travel three weeks to make sure it doesn’t happen?”

“Because I knew that someone was important,” Angrboða replied, uneasily. “Because in my dream, that person died, and I- I grieved. Like part of my heart had died too.”

Fárbauti’s hands were locked together on the table, and a tiny muscle twitched in his clenched jaw. He looked cornered and resentful, and Loki thought he knew why. The Consort thought Angrboða was not a proper person for him to associate with, for some reason, but if there was any chance of the prophecy being true, he didn’t dare dismiss her... him.

“Frigga has visions of the future, sometimes,” Loki ventured. “She never tells anyone what they are, but we’ve all learned to trust her when she tells us to do something.”

“Maybe I should try that,” Angrboða mused. “Everyone always argues with me.”

“You may accompany us into the mountains,” Fárbauti said, grudgingly. “But you must keep to your normal form.”

Angrboða lowered his eyes. “If you insist.” 

“I do.” Fárbauti rose to his feet. “Now, I think we should all get what sleep we can. We are leaving in the morning.”

After the others were gone, his sire repaired Loki’s bed, and helped him replace the furs, all without speaking. Loki wanted to ask questions, but he didn’t think he would get the kind of answers he wanted with Fárbauti in such a mood, so he just exchanged a polite ‘good night’ and stretched out to get some rest.

Despite his weariness, sleep seemed a long time in coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bear with me, dear readers. Loki has some adventures yet to go through before getting to Earth, but I hope it will prove entertaining and enlightening.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki and Angrboða get to know each other.

In the morning, as they began the arduous trek up the first mountain pass, Loki tried without success to find an opportunity to speak alone with Angrboða.

He wasn’t accustomed to this much scrutiny. In Asgard, it had never been any problem to slip away unnoticed, but now he had to order people to give him a moment’s privacy for bodily necessities. The Jotuns watched over Loki like half a dozen sheep dogs with a single spring lamb. Or maybe a kid goat, he thought, gingerly touching the tiny, silver-black horns that had finally broken through the skin.

Sif and Angrboða had fallen back to the rear of the company, talking softly and occasionally laughing. The Warriors Three had stuck close to them for a time, then come forward to join Loki.

“What are they talking about?” Loki asked Fandral, who was looking much like he always had after an encounter with the Valkyries. 

“Men,” the swordsman replied, disgruntled.

Hogun said, “And Asgard.”

Digging out a piece of jerky, Volstagg pointed it at Loki before biting off a chunk and chewing vigorously. “Angrboða mostly wants to hear about you,” he boomed, spitting tiny chunks of soggy meat.

Appalled at the thought of Angrboða basing an opinion of him based on anything Sif might say, Loki decided he had to take matters into his own hands.

“I’m going to go talk to her. Him, I mean,” he grimaced at the slip, but somehow, no matter that Angrboða now looked male, he kept thinking of him as female.

“Good luck with that,” Vostagg wished, grinning revoltingly.

“Want us to come with you?” Fandral asked hopefully.

“No, thank you.”

“Huh,” Hogun eyed him speculatively, then turned his concentration to the icy rocks they were traversing.

Loki turned to walk back. Predictably, Fárbauti and another of Laufey’s guards started back as well.

Exasperated, Loki announced loudly, “I am not going to disappear. I just want to talk to Angrboða.” 

“Loki-” Fárbauti started, then closed his mouth on whatever objection he had been going to make. By his expression, it must have been an extremely sour comment.

“Why not?” Loki waited, eyebrows raised.

Coming up behind him, Sif and Angrboða had heard enough to be aware of the impending argument. Like Loki, they looked at the Consort for an reason they shouldn’t talk. Angrboða’s smile was knowing, and mocking.

“Very well,” Fárbauti gave Angrboða a dark look before turning to go.

Sif smirked.

“You wished to speak to me, Gifted One?” Angrboða inquired sweetly.

“Just Loki, please. Sif, do you mind?”

“I’ll just go keep the boys out of trouble,” Sif said, smirking even harder and giving Loki a wink as she strolled off to rejoin the rest of the Aesir.

“What did you want to talk about?” Angrboða asked, falling into step next to Loki, taking a single short step for his every two.

“You,” he admitted, glancing up the trail to check they were far enough away not to be overheard. “Why doesn’t Fárbauti want you here?”

“Why do you think?” 

It had started to snow lightly, and complicated little crystals drifted down to catch in Angrboða’s untamed red hair like jewels.

“At a guess, I’d say it concerned sex, since nobody wants to talk about it.”

Angrboða grinned. “You’d be right.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Your father,” he nodded in the direction Fárbauti had gone, “thinks I’m going to corrupt you.”

“Because you prefer a female form?” Loki guessed.

Angrboða’s answer was tinged with bitterness. “Yes.” 

“I’m sorry, I still don’t understand. I mean, I guess if there are only a few who can change into females, people find it kind of... shocking?”

“That is a diplomatic way of putting it,” Angrboða laughed softly. “Perverse is the more common term.”

Before he could attempt to delve further, Angrboða seemed to veer into a different conversation. “I’ve been talking to your friends.”

“Yes?” Loki almost denied that he was actually friends with the Horrible Four, but decided to wait and see what they had said about him first. He could always denounce and or kill them later.

“Is it really considered improper for you to practice magic in Asgard?”

For a moment, the old anger flared. “Yes, it is. Magic is women’s business there.” 

Before he had come to Jotunheim, his bitterness had matched Angrboða’s. Now a whole realm wanted him to practice magic, and if it wasn’t his home, or not yet, the thought had healed some part of him. What could heal the heart of a frost giantess in a realm where it seemed she was not wanted?

“But the All-Father practices magic, doesn’t he?”

“When Odin does it, it’s ‘wielding power’,” Loki explained. “When I do it, it is ‘tricks’.”

“What about when the women do it?”

Loki had to consider that a while before answering. “It isn’t much discussed, to be honest. Most women’s magic is domestic, or concerns fertility. Blessing the household, charms to protect children. Spells to prevent or engender pregnancy or ease childbirth. And love spells,” he added, laughing softly.

“What kind of magic do you do, then?” 

The trail had turned steep and the ice was making climbing treacherous. As one of his feet tried to go out from under him and spill him face first on the slope, Angrboða hurriedly reached to catch him.

“Thank you,” he said, once he’d regained his balance. When Angrboða withdrew her hands from his waist, he found himself wanting them back.

“What were we talking about again?”

“Your magic,” Angrboða prompted, smiling.

“Most of what I do is illusions,” he told her. “Making people see me somewhere I’m not, or not see me where I am. I can even hide from Heimdall. And I can travel between the realms through the hidden ways, like the elves do. I can make smoke, or fog, or light or shadow. Other things that aren’t actually there. It can be really useful, implemented properly.”

“And you can change shape, yes? All goði are supposed to be powerful shape-changers.”

“I don’t know about powerful, but yes, I can. I haven’t done a lot of shifting, though. Just a few shapes so far. Horse, hound, falcon, and serpent.”

“That is impressive. Very few Jotuns can take more than one shape. Three is the most I’ve ever heard of.”

“And you?” Loki asked.

“Two. Wolf and woman.”

“And you have a gift of true dreaming, too. That sounds like a lot of talent to me.”

Angrboða ducked in pleasure, smiling and glancing through his thick lashes.

“Can I see yours?”

“My what?” Loki nearly fell again as his mind leaped to a very improper possibility, and Angrboða had to catch him again. So he could have those hands on him often, if he didn’t mind seeming like a complete klutz. Hmmm.

“Your magic,” Angrboða replied, with a quirk of his lip that implied he knew what Loki had been thinking. “I haven’t seen you do any yet.”

“I can’t do magic right now,” Loki confessed unwillingly. “The All-Father bound my magic.”

“Why would he do that? I thought you were raised as his son? Doesn’t he trust you?”

How to answer that? Loki sighed. “It’s really complicated.”

“So you can’t change shape, either?”

“No. If I could, I’d probably change back to my Aesir body.”

“You would be really cold,” Angrboða pointed out.

“True.” Watching Sif and the others suffer and shiver while he felt perfectly comfortable had been one of the only perks of being stuck in his Jotun form.

“What about your Jotun abilities? Did the All-father bind those too?”

“Like what?”

“Winter working.” 

At Loki’s blank look, Angrboða defined, “Working with ice and snow and frost and fog. I haven’t seen you do any of that, either.”

“Oh. No, I didn’t even know about those until recently, but they seem to work.” Loki hadn’t really given them much thought.

“Seem to?”

“I’ve called up ice a few times. By accident, mostly.”

“Then you should learn, you know,” Angrboða urged. “It’s not difficult, and then you’ll have it under control.”

“I suppose.” Loki thought of Fárbauti repairing his shattered bed and door the night before. If he learned to shape ice himself, maybe he would seem less immature to his sire.

It was also an excellent excuse to have more time in Angrboða’s company.

“Will you teach me?”

“Of course,” Angrboða smiled.

They spent much of the rest of the day practicing, not stopping until it was time to stop and set up camp for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this story is going to be longer than I thought, which I hope is a good thing, dear readers!
> 
> Thanks once again to everyone for encouragement and feedback!


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You didn't think you could get out of Jotunheim that easily, did you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angrboða has been giving me and Loki pronoun trouble, so henceforth she is she and her, no matter what she looks like.

Angrboða shook the snow from her fur, then changed from her wolf back to male frost giant. She was still panting slightly from her run.

She leaned in close to Fárbauti, but still had to shout to be heard above the howling wind. “They’re about a mile behind us! It looks like they’ve split up, I only saw about forty or so!”

Angrboða looked back over her shoulder down the switchback trail. The snow was coming down so thickly that her own four-footed tracks were swiftly being covered up.  
“I don’t think we can outrun them much longer!”

Most of the expedition was clustered up behind the Consort, listening, though Sif and the Warriors Three seemed barely able to comprehend the situation. 

They were so close to the passage now, less than an hour’s travel, but the blizzard was steadily growing worse. 

Loki’s bodyguards were all bundled up in so many clothes and furs that they resembled small, shambling bears, and they shivered and stumbled. More than one of them had tried to stop and sit down, and had to be picked up prodded or argued back into motion, and Fárbauti was not certain how much longer the Aesir could survive if they did not take shelter.. 

So close. They were so close. He recognized the rock formation on the trail above them, and remembered it as the last of his landmarks before the cave that led to Midgard. 

It would have been safer to stop, find a cave or build an ice shelter, and let the Asgardians make a small fire with the small store of emergency fuel they had brought for just such a contingency. Or it would have been safer if they weren’t being pursued. 

Despite all their efforts to go wide of his stronghold and draw no attention their small group, they had not succeeded in avoiding Lord Thrym’s notice. The jarl of Thrymheim and a company of his warriors had come hunting, and Fárbauti’s people would almost  
surely have been caught, if not for Angrboða. 

Fárbauti was still uncomfortable with how interested Loki was in the stranger from the Iron Wood, but he had to admit she had been extremely helpful. After being warned by a dream, she had roused them in the middle of the night to break camp and flee. 

He had been reluctant to believe her, but once they were underway, she had gone scouting in her wolf shape, and reported a large war party headed in their direction. Since they were the only thing of any interest in this direction, there was little doubt they were the object of the hunt.

Briefly, he had considered staying put and trying to reason with Lord Thrym. The Jarl had always been loyal to Laufey, but there were the four Asgardians with them. Thrym had lost two sons and his mate in the war with Asgardians, and his enmity for the race bordered on madness, and by Angrboða’s report, his men outnumbered theirs approximately five to one. The possible consequences of Thrym’s bigoted hostility had prompted him to decide they should try to outrun them. Once Loki and his companions were through the passage, he was willing to take the risk of talking to Thrym.

They had managed to stay ahead, setting a punishing pace, with barely any rest. They were all desperately tired, and the Asgardians were worst off, having to work harder to match pace with the Jotuns, and suffering the bitter cold of the mountains. Then the storm had struck.

No Jotun could freeze to death, no matter how cold the wind blew, but that didn’t mean the storm wasn’t dangerous. Sudden gusts of wind and icy footing might cause a fall down the steep cliffs, and the deep drifts of snow slowed their progress even more. Fárbauti had worried that Loki would have as much trouble with the deep snow as the Aesir, but once again, Angrboða’s influence had been useful, and Loki had learned to make the snow bear his weight so that he could walk almost normally.

He was standing on a snowbank now, nearly eye to eye with Fárbauti for once. His face was very grave.

“Are we going to be able to stay ahead of them?” Loki yelled, clawing a loose strand of wind-blown hair out of his mouth and shoving it back impatiently.

“We’re going to try!” Fárbauti turned to his warriors. “We need to carry the Aesir. Get them loaded up and leave behind our supplies! We’re going to run for it!”

They lost some time to the confusion of dropping packs and sorting out who would carry Sif and the Warriors Three, who did not take well to the idea, despite their weariness and danger. The frost giant who had assigned himself to Sif ended the argument by promising to club her unconscious, then carry her if she didn’t shut up and cooperate, after which they were all grudgingly amenable. 

They made better speed afterwards, though Fárbauti knew they couldn’t maintain the momentum for long. But they didn’t have to. Coming around a sharp turn in the path, they caught sight of their destination at last.

The cave entrance loomed out from beneath a rocky overhang, framed by long icicles like fangs. It was dark and ominous and the most welcome sight Fárbauti had seen in days.

His relief was short-lived, though, and his heart sank in dread as, one after another, forms rose up out of the snow, shaking off their concealment and forming weapons of ice. He counted more than twenty, spread in a semi-circle around them. 

In the center, directly in front of the cave entrance, was Lord Thrym. Even for a frost giant, Thrym was huge, and his expression was as furious as the storm around them.

“How dare you conspire with Asgard?” the jarl roared. “How dare you trespass on my land to aid their schemes?”

Fárbauti didn’t hold out much hope for rational discussion at this point, but he had to try. “Lord Thrym, stand aside, in the name of the king!”

Thrym’s answer was a spear of ice aimed at the Consort’s head. He dodged and it merely grazed an ear before being shattered by the quick reflexes of the warrior behind him.

Though they were outnumbered and exhausted, it seemed they had little choice but to try to fight their way through.

 

\--------

The fighting had quickly turned to sheer chaos. Loki was used to that. He could work with that. He sprinted into battle, luring enemy warriors into thinking him an easy target, then using his greater speed and agility to outmaneuver them. He used his throwing daggers until they were gone, then conjured blades of ice to hurl, along with flying needles of ice to sting and distract, or even blind an unwary opponent.

Angrboða had taken her lupine form and harried the enemy with feints and rushes, nips and slashes from behind. He grinned to see her fighting dirty; she was a fighter after his own heart.

Sif and Fandral were in no shape to do anything but huddle together, but Hogun and even more so Volstagg had found a hidden reserve and fought wildly to defend their friends. Fat Volstagg fought like a berserk, his axe hewing down any foe in reach.

Fárbauti had engaged Thrym himself, and in the few glimpses he cautght of their contest, Loki could see from whom he had inherited his swiftness.

It seemed as if they might win out, until the rest of Lord Thrym’s men caught up and joined in.

Bodies were falling on both sides. Hogun went down under a smashing blow of a club. Blood was dribbling down Angrboða’s shoulder to stain the snow, and she was limping.

Loki fought harder, drawing in the winter, summoning blasts of blinding snow, calling spears of ice from the ground. It was too slow. Too slow, trying to fight one on one. 

Fárbauti misjudged a blow and was sent sprawling backwards. Two of his warriors rushed in to defend him.

Loki reached for ice, for snow, for power, to protect his sire. He found it in the storm and flung it at the enemy. The snow turned to sleet, and the sleet, driven by the wind, could scour unprotected skin.

The wind screamed, drowning out everything, but Loki thought men might be screaming too. He could make out blurred figures crouching down, trying to protect their faces. He could no longer tell friend from foe, but the storm did not care.

He had taken up the storm, and it had taken him up in turn. It fed him and he fed it and they were frenzy, ferocity, chaos. Loki screamed with the wind’s voice. It was too much. Much too much.

“Loki!” Somehow, Angrboða had reached his side and had taken hold of his shoulders. She had changed back to her female shape, forgetting herself in the madness of the tempest. Dark blue blood coated half her face and was splotched liberally over her skin and clothes. She shook him, but the storm held him more tightly. Ice began to coat them both. 

It was like riding a dragon. A very angry, hungry dragon that he did not dare let go. He had imbued it with his rage, and now it would have blood if he let it. It might kill Angrboða, since she would not let him go. It might kill Fárbauti, who he cared for, and might come to love. It would almost certainly kill Thor’s boon companions.

Loki didn’t always like them. At times he had even hated them. But he could not be the one responsible for killing them.

The storm fought him, wanting to destroy. It made him think of the Casket of Ancient Winters, and how it felt, raging, wanting to break free. This storm was nothing, compared to the power in that artifact. But he had been able to put the Casket down.

Which gave him an idea. It was an insane idea, but what did that matter, since it was the only idea he had?

Pulling on the storm, Loki drew it further into himself. It filled him with wildness, stretching him wide in his soul, freezing his blood. It fought him, but he fought harder. He pulled, condensed, pushed, shaped.

When awareness returned, everything seemed unnaturally still and quiet. Frightened that he had been too slow and everyone was dead, Loki looked up.

The fighting had stopped, and most of the Jotuns were still on their feet. They were looking around in confusion at the sudden cessation of the blizzard. 

Angrboða had shifted back to wolf to defend him from an enemy warrior who had meant to take advantage of his apparent helplessness, but they now both stood still, looking perplexedly at him.

Hogun had regained his feet and was helping Volstagg break Sif and Fandral out of a wall of ice. They did not look good, but they were alive.

Fárbauti was leaning heavily against one of his men, looking his way in surmise.

Lord Thrym was staring up at the clear sky, looking stunned.

Loki staggered up to his feet, shedding ice in a musical rain as he stumbled forward.  
“Lord Thrym!” he called, his voice cracked and hoarse from screaming. 

The jarl looked down. Loki’s head barely came up to his belt. He still held a long club of ice at his side. His face was as blank as a mountain face.

Loki sank to his knees in front of Thrym, spent and swaying before he found enough will to speak.  
“Lord Thrym, nothing I can do... nothing anyone... can do...” he gasped for air, grasped for words. “Nothing can restore... Jotunheim’s... lost sons.”

Leaning forward, Loki placed his cupped hands on the ground and put down what he had been holding. “But maybe... someday... I can restore... something.”

He leaned back, revealing a tiny blue cube, no bigger than the smallest joint of an frost giant’s finger.

Slowly, Thrym reached down and picked it up, letting it rest in the palm of his hand.

Awed murmurs ran through the onlookers. “Goði,” they breathed, and “Storm-tamer.”

“An Aesir trick,” growled Thrym, staring down at Loki. “Your exploits are well-known, Prince of Lies.”

“Lord Thrym, please,” Fárbauti spoke. “They are only trying to get back to Asgard.”

“And why should we help them with that?” 

“My children are there. Helblindi and Býleistr are there as hostages, and we cannot get word of them.”

Thrym glared sullenly, clenching his fist around the tiny box of storm. “You will make me out a monster, then?”

“They say you are, in Asgard,” Loki said, barely loud enough for Thrym and Fárbauti to hear. “I was taught so all my life.”

Fárbauti flinched. Lord Thrym bared his teeth in hate. 

Loki stared up at him, waiting for him to strike or surrender.

Lord Thrym hated, but he was not a monster, or was not willing to be thought one, which might amount to the same thing. He gave in. “Go, then! Get out of my lands!”

Loki inclined his head, respectfully.

“Thank you, my lord.”

\--------

Thankfully, there were only a few dead. Jotuns were a tough people, and the warriors more resilient than most. The wounded were already being tended to, and Hogun had given out healing crystals and instructions on using them.

The Aesir needed a fire, but they were going to wait and build it on the Midgard side of the passage, since they planned on going quickly, before Thrym could change his mind. 

Angrboða had run back and found their packs, so they were as ready as they were going to get.

“Are you sure you won’t come with us?” Loki asked her and Fárbauti both.

Fárbauti shook his head. “Even if it were not a violation of the treaty, I think we might be more harm than help on Midgard.”

“You don’t need my help, Gifted One,” Angrboða told him, smiling.

“What about your dream?” Loki reminded her. “You said you needed to be with me, to save my life.”

“I think I’ve done whatever it was I was meant to do.” She leaned down and kissed him. “You can take it from here.”

“I will miss you.”

“Just come back to us,” Fárbauti said, while giving the frost giantess a mildly reproving look.

“I will. As soon as I can.” He hugged his sire. “Tell Laufey I will come back.”

Turning, Loki gathered up Sif and the Warriors Three and entered the passage, headed for Midgard and with any luck, a reunion with Thor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And on to Earth next. Wheee!


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki comes to Midgard. Midgard notices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right people, now we are cooking with gas! =)
> 
> Edited. After checking the timeline, I realized that Captain America is still frozen in the Arctic at this point, so I substituted Natasha. Sorry for the goof. I don't think I will be able to work Steve or Bruce in, but if anyone has any ideas on how, I'd be happy to hear it.
> 
> Also edited. I had Jane eating breakfast while it was night in Norway, which doesn't work, since Norway is 6 hours ahead of where I am putting Jane Foster, so I changed it.

For some reason, Loki had assumed that the passage into Midgard would end up in a cave similar to the entrance on Jotunheim. He had a plan, and that plan was to avoid the notice of mortals, at least at first. The plan was to make a hidden camp and let Sif and the Warriors Three recover, then do a little stealthy reconnaissance.

The plan was not to appear in some kind of castle, and the plan absolutely had not involved said castle subsequently exploding around them with an earth-shattering kaboom.

\--------

The urgent trill of an alarm drew Jane Foster’s attention from the slightly stale pastry that was substituting for her dinner, causing her to nearly choke on the cheese and blueberry danish. Slugging back a swallow of coffee to clear her airway, she scurried across her brand-new lab.

Hopefully, it wasn’t another glitch. Her fingers danced over the computer keyboard as she called up data from everything SHIELD could give her access to, concerning a familiar anomaly that had shown up unexpectedly in the unlikely spot of Tonsberg, Norway.

“Darcy!” 

“Yeah, boss?” her assistant leaned around the doorway to her lab and looked in.

“Can you get me Agent Coulson on the phone?” Jane requested. 

“You sure?” Darcy frowned suspiciously. “I mean, if you actually discover something, aren’t you worried they’ll just confiscate all our stuff again?”

“We are them now,” Jane reminded her former intern, without looking up from her screens.

“I’m not. I mean, I do technically work for them, but-”

“Just get him on the phone, please!”

“Fine,” Darcy said, turning to go. She called back over her shoulder, “I’m hiding my iPod!”

Jane ignored her, reaching for her own cell phone and dialing. She hoped Thor had a working phone with him today; Tony Stark was still trying to develop the God of Thunder a phone that would be proof against being smashed in battle, struck by lightning or being absentmindedly left somewhere.

It rang once, twice, then, “Jane!” Thor boomed, “Are you well?” She could hear the whistling rush of air and guessed that he was airborne. It was still a shock to her that she had a god for a boyfriend. A god who could fly. With a hammer. Who would have ever guessed that?

“Yes, I’m fine!” She yelled back. “Where are you?” She hoped she wasn’t interrupting something important, like a battle with a giant robot or something. Thor had some kind aversion to letting his calls go to voicemail. Of course, that might have had something to do with how often he destroyed or lost his phone.

“I am returning from visiting with Director Fury on the flying airship!”

Which told her absolutely nothing about his location, but she supposed she could ask Phil. 

“I just got a possible Bifrost reading!” she told him. “It’s not quite the same energy signature as the one that brought you, but it has been different every time I managed to detect it!”

Thor’s rugged, good-natured features lit up. “In New Mexico?” Thor asked. 

“No,” she checked her sensor log. “Someplace in Norway! Tonsberg, wherever that is! Do you think maybe it’s news from Asgard?”

Darcy popped in and offered Jane a different phone. “Agent Coulson, as requested.”

Jane took it, holding it in her lap for the time being.

“I know not. I will go to this Tonsberg and see what I may learn!” Thor announced.

“Maybe we should wait until we know more about-”

“Doctor Foster?” Phil’s voice floated up from the neglected phone. “Your assistant said you had something important to report?” Very distinctly, she detected the chatter of gunfire in the background. Shit.

Hurriedly, she switched phones. “Phil, are you okay?”

“Yes. You needed to report something?” Agent Coulson’s looked out of the phone at her, genial and relaxed as always, though the background appeared to be bullet-scarred concrete. He was a cool customer, yes indeed.

Jane could be cool too. And concise. “There was an intergalactic anomaly a few minutes ago, in Tonsberg, Norway.”

“Thank you, Doctor Foster. We’ll have someone look into that.”  
More gunfire. Was it louder, or was it just that she was holding the phone closer to her ear?

“Okay, sure-” She wondered if she should mention that Thor- Damn it, she had forgotten him. She switched back.

“Thor?” Nope. No Thor. She should tell- Another phone exchange. No Coulson either. Call back? Phil sounded like he was in a war zone, no way was she going to bother him again. 

She tried Thor instead. It went to voicemail. 

“That’s just great,” she sighed. Oh well, Norway was pretty far off, right? She could probably get back in touch with somebody before they got there.

Decision made, she dove back into her work.

\-------

The last of the gunmen was silenced by an arrow through his eye, just as Agent Phil Coulson turned his attention back to the hostage retrieval mission, and Clint Barton, aka Hawkeye, rappelled down from the shadowy ceiling of the abandoned warehouse. 

“Natasha has the hostages,” he told Phil, “I think we’re done here.”

“Any casualties?”

“None to speak of. Some cuts and bruises on some of the hostages. Agent Jordan sprained a wrist.”

“Good work, Agent Barton.”

The mission had been a cakewalk, and bringing Romanoff and Barton both had been overkill for the half-assed terrorist group that had kidnapped a group of foreign aid workers to hold for ransom. It had been the kidnappers bad luck that one of the ‘aid workers’ was actually an undercover SHIELD operative.

“Did I hear you talking to Jane Foster?” Barton asked, falling into step beside Phil as his handler headed back to their transport.

Coulson nodded, keying his phone back on and calling Fury.

\-------

“Give me the good news,” Nick Fury, Director of Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division never bothered with trivialities like ‘hello’. He was walking through the command deck of the Helicarrier, spreading his attention through the flow of information and reports that streamed in constantly from around the world.

“Hostages safe, bad guys dead or in custody,” Coulson replied. “And I just had a call from Doctor Foster. She said she had detected an intergalactic anomaly in Norway.”

Fury spun on one heel, startling a tech who had been passing close behind him, and walked back towards a bank of stations that monitored weather. 

“Did she say where in Norway? We just got a report on a strange weather phenomenon-” He tapped an analyst on the shoulder and indicated the woman should bring up the information, which she promptly did. “In Vestfold.”

“She said Tonsberg,” Coulson reported. 

The analyst tapped keys and her map enlarged.

“Which is in Vestfold, and probably not a coincidence,” Fury said. “It seems that ten minutes ago, the temperature in approximately a one kilometer radius dropped about fifty degrees in less than a minute, then started returning to normal.”

“Do we have any people nearby?” 

“Agent Hill,” Fury called out. “Who do we have near Tonsberg, Norway?”

“Response teams?”

Fury nodded affirmative.

Maria Hill called up files, checking. “We have agents in Germany, the UK, Belarus and Poland. Those are the closest.”

“Isn’t Stark in Sweden, attending the Nobel Prize ceremonies?” Coulson asked, raising his voice as he followed Barton onto their helicopter.

Something in the crawl at the bottom of her screen caught Maria Hill’s attention. “Sir, we have a report of a possible explosion in that area. Tonsberg.”

Fury gave in to the inevitable. “Call Stark.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments grease the gears, so keep them coming, dear readers!


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki meets Tony Stark, and is at last reunited with Thor.

Volstagg was leaning over him, saying something, but Loki’s ears were too stunned by the blast to hear anything. He tried to say so, but the overweight warrior just shook his head and went to work digging Loki out from under a pile of stones and broken timbers.

After coughing as much dust as he could from his lungs, Loki spat some of the grit from his mouth, and tried again.

“Is everyone all right?” he shouted, and was relieved that Volstagg’s face registered comprehension this time.

“I don’t know! You were the first person I saw when I came to!” 

Loki extended his hand, “Help me up.”

Looking relieved, Volstagg dragged him upright. 

The obese Asgardian seemed mostly unharmed, having been protected by his armor. Loki wished he had been wearing his own. He had taken to wearing traditional Jotun clothing out of courtesy, and because it was more comfortable than garments that became stiff and heavy with ice, but now his mostly bare skin was scored with cuts and scrapes. Fortunately, none of them seemed serious.

It was night, wherever they were, and although Loki could see fairly well, Volstagg kept tripping on the debris of walls and ceiling. Both of them called for their companions, but heard no reply at first. Then Hogun’s voice floated back from behind a ruined wall.

They found Hogun kneeling beside Fandral, who was white-faced with pain, though he tried to grin when he saw the two of them approach.  
“That was a little more exciting than I was expecting,” he commented. “What happened?”

“I think maybe this end of the passage was blocked,” Loki replied. “How badly are you hurt?”

“My leg’s broken. Other than that, I think I’m all right.”

“Yes,” Hogun agreed, finishing up a quick examination. 

“This is the third time you’ve needed healing this month,” Loki berated Fandral, “I’m going to start calling you Fandral the Unlucky.”

“I use all my luck for getting laid,” Fandral grunted. “Speaking of which, where is Sif?”

“I don’t know, but you’d better hope she’s not close enough to have heard you,” Volstagg answered.

After surveying the nearby area, Loki groaned, wishing again for his magic. If he weren’t bound, he could perform a quick location spell. Even a simple light spell would be make things immensely easier. 

Volstagg levered himself back to his feet. “We’ll keep looking.”

Loki wanted Hogun to stay and heal Fandral, but it turned out that the pack with the healing stones had been torn loose in the explosion. After a few minutes of arguing with Fandral about whether he would be all right by himself, Hogun also joined in looking for Sif.

Eventually, mainly by process of elimination, but also by the good fortune of Hogun tripping over her foot, they located her under the broken pieces of some kind of massive carving. Picking up one of the larger segments, Loki was surprised to see it had depicted Yggdrasil.

Sif was unconscious, and had a lump the size of a hen’s egg on the back of her skull, but other than that Hogun could find no wounds.

“Are we still planning to build that fire?” Volstagg asked, hopefully. “It’s warmer here, wherever here is, but I could still stand to thaw out some.”

No one had come yet to investigate the noise, though they could see the lights of a town in the distance. Neither Fandral or Sif were in any condition to go anywhere, even if they had any idea of where to go. 

“Yes, I suppose we may as well,” Loki said, “I’m going to try Heimdall first, but I don’t have much hope he’ll answer. If it was just a problem getting the Bifrost to open in Jotunheim, he has to have seen us here by now.”

Hogun asked, “Are we on Midgard?”

Tilting back his head, Loki studied the stars. They were not so bright or numerous as those on either Asgard or Jotunheim, but he was able to make out a few distinctive constellations.

“Yes, this is Midgard, and the northern hemisphere, but that’s all I can tell you.”

“Good enough,” Hogun approved.

Carefully, they moved Sif to lie on a cleared spot near Fandral, and covered them both with what furs they could find. Volstagg went to work collecting wood for a fire, while Hogun searched for his pack.

Loki called Heimdall, but as he’d guessed, there was no answer. He hadn’t really expected one, but all the same it filled him with a heartsick desperation. Somehow, he had to find out what was going on. 

“Mother,” Loki whispered, staring up at the strange sky, “All-Father, please... Why doesn’t anyone answer?”

Someone, or rather something, did answer, though. A loud, insectile flying machine of some kind rose up from the lights of the nearby town. It was still some distance off, but gave every appearance of being headed their way.

Loki hadn’t ever paid much attention to Midgard, and though he was vaguely aware that they had made great strides in their many clever devices, he hadn’t been aware that they had learned to take to the sky in them.

He hurried back to the others, finding a small fire now burning and Volstagg rigging a cooking pot with water over it.

“I think we are going to have company soon.” He looked around to see Hogun still sifting through rubble. “You still haven’t found the healing stones?”

“No.”

Loki didn’t like the idea of meeting the Midgardians while Sif and Fandral were vulnerable. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t have been the least bit unnerved at the thought of facing mere mortals, but he was tired, two of his bodyguards were in no condition to run, much less fight, and he was in a strange place, without his magic, and without much in the way of information.

He glanced at the still form across from Fandral. “How’s Sif?”

“Still out, but Hogun says she will recover, even without healing stones, if need be,” Volstagg told him, sounding almost cheerful.

“Keep looking. I’m going to raise an ice shelter around you.”

Volstagg was dropping dried meat and mushrooms into his pot. “As long as it doesn’t interfere with my cooking. I cannot wait to eat hot food again.”

Fandral’s leg had been splinted, and he was looking somewhat improved.“You’re worried the Midgardians will attack us?” 

“I have no idea what they might do, but if they are hostile, you and Sif should have some protection.”

Fandral looked away, then met Loki’s gaze. “This feels oddly familiar, you know.”

“What?” Loki had no idea what the warrior meant.

“You trying to take care of us. It’s odd, you know,” Fandral continued, “I always thought you only cared what happened to Thor.”

It was Loki’s turn to glance aside. He had only cared about Thor, really. The strange flying contraption was getting closer.

“We don’t have time for this.” Loki turned to get started making a shelter.

He walked swiftly, but not swiftly enough to miss Fandral’s soft “Thank you.”

\--------

Tony dropped from high-altitude just over Oslofjord, and corrected course by a degree or two, slowing down as he approached the best estimate of the epicenter of whatever it was that had dragged him out of a decent party. Well, the party had been rather dull, in reality, but Pepper had been enjoying it, and he had been looking forward spending the rest of the evening reaping the benefits of her good mood.

Well, it was still possible he could wrap this up in plenty of time to get back before Pep was too tired to be frisky. Just because a wormhole opened up in Norway, it didn’t necessarily mean anything had come through, right?

Since he had been thinking out loud, his AI felt entitled to answer him, “There was also an explosion, sir.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony grumped, coming in over the water to what his guidance system indicated was Tonsberg. It looked like a small, sleepy seaside town. 

Continuing inland, he closed in on the approximate epicenter of the ‘event’, he discovered a helicopter hovering above a blown-to-smithereens stone building. “This must be the place. Jarvis, what have you got for me?”

“St. Olav’s Monastery, or Olavskirken, founded in 1191AD, it is what is known as a ‘round church’, and is a replica of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerulselm-”

Tony cut off the history lesson. “Anything actually, you know, relevant?” 

“According to the SHIELD database, the monastery was attacked and partially destroyed in 1942, by what is believed to have been HYDRA forces.”

“Okay, that sounds like it might be important...” The helicopter’s searchlight caught on something reflective. Tony dropped down for a closer look.

In the middle of the wreckage, there was a fifty foot dome of what was probably ice, based on appearance and thermal sensors. 

The helicopter had also closed in, and nowTony could make out a figure on the ground, pinned in the beam of their searchlight. He zoomed in his visual scan, getting a closer look at a startlingly blue figure, whose body temperature was much lower than a human’s, staring up at the helicopter with glowing red eyes and a less than friendly expression. 

“Okay, this guy doesn’t look like a local to me. Maybe a mutant?” 

“I find no match in any database of known mutants,” the AI informed him.

Tony turned his attention away from the blue guy to get a look at the other party looking at the blue guy. Scanning the local frequencies, he found their radio channel, then patched their chatter through to Jarvis for a translation. It was the police, arguing with their superiors on the ground about what to do about the situation. Suddenly, the chopper veered and dipped, as if fighting a strong wind.

The alien, mutant or whatever he was, had raised both hands towards the chopper, and although his hands were empty, Tony was reasonably confident that he had been responsible for whatever was up.

“Okay, Jarvis, tell them to back off a bit. I’ve got this,” he said, dropping to the ground about ten yards from the blue guy, who looked surprised, and not in a thrilled kind of way. 

Up close, Tony could see the blue guy looked a bit on the battered side, all cut up, hair and, wow, was that a loincloth? dull with dust, which argued for his having been involved in the explosion of the monastery. So had the explosion been unintentional, or was the blue guy one of those inept bombers who didn’t know how to set a timer or fuse or whatever? 

Also, he had tiny horns growing out of his forehead, and lines like ritual scars standing out lighter on his face and body. As if being blue with glowing red eyes wasn’t weird enough to start with.

“What do you want?” the blue guy demanded, yelling to be heard above the thwack-thwack-thwack of the rotors. He spoke in perfect English. Still, most of the aliens Tony had ever seen in movies spoke perfect English. The percentage was even higher on television.

“To start with, I’d like you not to wreck the helicopter.” Tony didn’t have to yell; Tony had speakers. The blue guy looked blank; Tony jerked a thumb up to the hovering chopper that had not moved off, as requested. 

“I would rather it was not so close!” the blue guy responded, echoing Tony’s exact thought. 

“Jarvis, tell them they are making this guy nervous and to back off.”

“Yes, sir.” 

To his relief, police helicopter complied, rising higher into the air, but police in ground cars, the press and various civilian gawkers were now arriving in ground vehicles. As much as Tony appreciated having an audience, they were potential casualties if things should go south.

“I think we’d better get this sorted out, before someone gets hurt,” Tony said, walking towards the blue guy, who extended one arm towards Tony, palm out. It was very much not a ‘hello, nice to meet you’ as much as it was a ‘I have a hand and I’m willing to use it,” gesture.

“Who are you?” the blue guy backed up a step.

He didn’t know who Iron Man was? “Okay, you can’t be from this planet. I’m the guy who sorts things out.” 

Although maybe possibly he wasn’t the very best choice at making first contact with an alien species, unless it turned out to be an invasion. The blue guy had almost certainly had something to do with an old building blowing up, which was not a very auspicious beginning for an invasion, not like blowing up the White House or the Eiffel Tower, but there was that possible HYDRA connection too... Maybe he should ask Fury, since Fury had sent him out here.

Fuck it. Tony was the man on the ground and a genius. He could sort it out.

The blue guy frowned in concentration. Almost instantly, a layer of thick ice formed on Tony’s suit, and nearly as quickly, the deicing system melted it off. Behind his faceplate, Tony smirked, because he was a genius, and had long since solved his icing problem.

“Hey!” he addressed the blue guy. “Cease and desist with the ice capades, Slushie Smurf.” He added a love tap from one of his repulsors, just for emphasis.

The blue guy flew back against his weird igloo thing, and came up fighting. Not that flying icicles were much of a threat against his suit, no matter how big they might be. The local police, however, decided they should help out, and opened fire. 

Thankfully, the first shots missed, and the next volley slammed into a thick shield of ice. A gust of freezing wind came up from nowhere, and suddenly they were all in the middle of a blinding snowstorm.

Okay, that was impressive. Especially as it was summer, and there hadn’t been more than a few scrappy cirrus clouds high overhead.

“Jarvis, what’s cease fire in Norwegian?” Tony asked, moving to get between the blue guy and the gunfire. He wasn’t entirely sure who he was protecting. Tony could still make things out, but only by sensors. Visibility was nil, and the shooting at things you couldn’t see was a terrible idea, especially with so many bystanders nearby who might do dumb, panicky things like run right into the line of fire.

So much for a peaceful first contact.

 

\----------

Thor was aware that Jane and Tony Stark both thought he was inept at using their Midgardian technology, and truth to tell, some of it was giving him a great deal of difficulty. The TV remote, and the toaster, for example. But the phones Stark provided for him accepted voice commands, and the gps map was fairly self-explanatory, once he had understood that the destination was the little green dot, and the moving blue dot was himself. 

So he had asked it to plot him a route to Tonsberg, Norway, and flown that way at his top speed.

He had been on Midgard, or Earth, as its people called it, for twenty-four days now, and while he was enjoying helping to protect it, and spending time with Jane, and Erik and Darcy and all his other new friends, Thor was confused about why he had his powers back, but was not allowed to return home. If his father had intended him to stay here, learning to be a better man by protecting this realm, that was all well and good, but he could have said so. 

This continuing silence from Asgard had been unnerving. The All-Father had been overdue for the Odinsleep, and the problem of Jotunheim hadn’t been resolved, so Thor was worried. He didn’t understand why there was no news of any kind, at least. Even if he were still exiled and in disgrace, he’d expected his friends to find some way to come to him. He knew them, and he knew that they would brave even the All-Father’s wrath to do what they could to help him. Why hadn’t they come? Then there was Loki. Loki could travel here in secret, couldn’t he? Often he had bragged of being able to avoid Heimdall’s gaze and go where he willed. Why didn’t he at least come and tell Thor what was going on at home?

As he got closer and closer to the green dot, Thor gazed down over a landscape he thought he recognized from somewhere. It took him a few moments to dredge up just where he had seen it; it had been in one of the history texts he and Loki had studied as children.

Thor had never been studious, not like Loki, but this had been an account of the war with the frost giants, and had been illustrated with beautiful and exciting pictures. One of those pictures had been of this place, where the Jotuns had tried to take over Midgard.

Could the Jotuns be trying again, even though they no longer had the Casket of Ancient Winters? Laufey had threatened war over Thor’s ill-considered incursion into his realm. Had he decided to wage it here?

He checked the map. The green dot was very near. He checked the landscape below for signs of anything out of the ordinary. There was a small flying machine that flew in the same manner as Director Fury’s great ship, with the spinning blades, and it was shining a light down into a snowstorm.

Wait. A snowstorm? The air around him seemed clear, and the land below green and blooming as in the middle of the growing season. It had to be frost giants.

Thor aimed Mjölnir at the heart of the storm and dove like a stooping hawk. At the last minute he caught sight of dozens of fleeing mortals and slowed so as not to injure any of them as he landed. As his feet touched down, he made out the red and gold armor of the Man of Iron, just visible through the haze of snow, doing battle with- yes, Thor could make out the distinctive blue skin and burning eyes.

The joy of battle woke in his blood, and he shouted with pleasure. Without a second’s thought, he let fly with his hammer. 

Serpent-swift, the Jotun ducked aside, evading Mjölnir, leaving off his attack on Tony Stark to turn towards Thor. He did not move quite as expeditiously to get out of the way of the hammer’s return flight, though it was a near thing. As it skimmed along the body of the dodging frost giant, it snagged on his heavy leather belt and brought him along with it to plow into the earth practically at Thor’s feet.

The wind died, and the snow drifted peacefully down, then stopped.

“Man of Iron!” he called to Tony. “Are you well?”

“Just fine, Blondie,” Tony told him, coming over to look down at the pinned frost giant. “Pretty decent hammering.”

“Thor!” Welcome, if completely unexpected voices brought Thor’s head around to see Volstagg and Hogun emerge from a strange ice building and stride towards him across the snow. Volstagg was grinning warmly, and even Hogun was looking happy.

“My friends! It is so good to see you!” Thor rushed to embrace them both. “What news from Asgard? Is it war? Are there more of the Jotun scum here?”

“Um,” Volstagg began.

“We have news,” Hogun admitted, looking past him to the frost giant, and then to the Man of Iron who had come closer.

“What’s going on?”

“Thor!” The frost giant had begun to stir, trying to get up and failing. “Thor, you idiot! Get this thrice-damned hammer off of me!”

“Loki?” The voice, as well as the sentiment, was unmistakable. Rushing over, Thor took up his hammer, at the same time lifting the blue-skinned, red-eyed figure who was still indisputably Loki because no one else in all the Nine Realms could give him such a disdainful look.

Tony opened his faceplate. “You know these guys, Point Break?” 

“Aye, friend Tony! These are my great friends, Hogun and Volstagg,” he waved to each in turn. “This is my brother, Loki.”

Tony looked from blonde, blue-eyed Thor to the horned blue guy. “Not seeing the resemblance, Point Break.”

“Adopted brother,” the blue guy told him.

“Ah.” That did make more sense.

Evidently not to Thor. “What?” 

The blue guy, Loki, grimaced. “Thor, we need to talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't able to find any information about the name of the monastery from Captain America, so I decided to use St. Olav’s Monastery, or Olavskirken. It was indeed founded in 1191AD, it is what is known as a ‘round church’, and is a replica of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerulselm. At least one source said it was once a monastery, and it could have contained important relics.
> 
> It is only ruins now, having been destroyed centuries ago, but in this universe, it was not destroyed till Loki arrived. =)


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki tells Thor who and what he is.

Thor was staring at him, dumbfounded, but before Loki could formulate any coherent speech, Sif and Fandral came stumbling out, falling on Thor with effusive delight. It seemed that the healing stones had been located at last.

“We have missed you so much!” Sif told Thor. “We have so much to tell you.”

“You look good! I see you have your powers back,” Fandral observed, smiling and clapping him on the shoulder. “I knew you could do it, whatever it was.”

Thor paused, looking at how worn and battered his friends were, and Loki! He knew his brother was a shapeshifter, but what cause could he have to take on such a guise, and why had he not changed back? 

“What have all of you been doing? How have you come to such a state?” 

“It is much too long and complicated to tell here,” Volstagg shook his head, making his beard wag. “Let us all find a feasting hall and exchange tales over ale and dinner.”

“Who is this, Thor?” Sif asked, turning to regard Tony curiously. His return assessment had her fingering the hilt of her sword when it lingered in the vicinity of her chest.

“Nice armor,” he said, with a smirk that looked very at home on his handsome features.

Predictably, Sif scowled.

“This is my good friend, Tony Stark, the Man of Iron!” Thor wrapped an arm around the man’s shoulders. “One of this world’s greatest warriors. I must tell you how he saved my life.”

“Iron?” Loki looked at the suit of armor dubiously. He knew a bit about metallurgy. “I don’t think so.”

“It’s a little more hi-tech than that,” Tony chuckled, “I didn’t pick the name, but it’s got a nice ring to it, and I like the theme song.”

“Interesting.” Loki had no intention of admitting he hadn’t understood half of what the man had said. He turned his attention instead to the crowd of mortals that were creeping back, now that the violence seemed to have ceased. Stark’s gaze followed his. 

“Yeah, right. Let me go get these guys sorted out before they decide to start shooting again. I’ll get us some transport, too. Unless you can all fly, like Thor does? No? All right then. Let me see what I can get. Limo, private jet, we’ll see. Be right back.” 

“So, my friends,” Thor returned to his earlier question. “What news from Asgard?”

“We don’t actually know-” Fandral began to explain that they had been gone from Asgard almost as long as Thor had when, without warning, Thor began to emit music. At least, Loki thought it might be called music. Loud, pounding music, with wailing that might be thought to be singing, by someone who knew nothing about singing.   
“One moment, my friends,” Thor fished in his breastplate and drew out a small, flat object that was the source of the sound, and did something to it to make it stop.

“Jane!” Now Thor was talking to the flat object. “I have wonderful news!”

The object talked back. “Thor, I meant to get back to you sooner! Was it the Bifrost after all? Is it working again? Can I come see it? Did you get called back? You’re not leaving just yet, are you?”

Fascinated, Loki moved to where he could see better. The face of a lovely young woman peered up from the device.

“I do not know, but I will endeavor not to leave without showing you the bridge, as I promised,” Thor told her.

Fandral leaned closer. “Who is this, Thor?”

“How does that work?” Loki wanted to know, though as soon as he heard himself, he knew that Thor almost certainly had no clue. Thor was seldom interested in how things worked.

“What?” Tony Stark had returned to join in. “The phone? I can tell you that, in detail, if you really want to know.”

“Is that Tony?” the young woman in the ‘phone’ inquired. “You said something about good news?”

“Yes!” Thor beamed. “My friends have come from Asgard! And my brother as well!”

“That is good news!” Jane agreed. “I hope I’ll get a chance to meet them?”

Sif started to say, “We didn’t actually come here from-”

“Mister Stark, sir!” A Midgardian had come jogging up, staring at all of them, especially Loki, but trying not to be too obvious about it. “We have a van for you, to take you to the airstrip.”

“Excellent, Sargent.” Tony turned back to Thor. “Fury is sending a plane. He’s got a hair up his butt about debriefing us. Well, you. I plan on going back to Pepper and letting you all explain this situation, since I really have no idea what’s going on.” 

He put an armored hand on Thor’s back and started guiding him, and by extension the rest of them, down a hill towards a large, boxy carriage. There were no beasts of any kind to pull them, nor did they seem designed to be pulled. 

After telling Jane that they were on their way to visit someone named Director Fury(a name she seemed to recognize, Loki noticed), he promised to meet with her and introduce them all to each other, soon. Her face blinked out, and Thor tucked the phone away again.

Loki was beginning to think he should have been paying more attention to Midgard after all. Phones. Flying machines. Self-propelled carriages. Suits of armor that allowed men to fly and strike mighty blows with bursts of light not unlike magic. What were all these advances the mortals had made in the few centuries since he’d last visited?

Some of the mortals were clearly guards, and those were keeping the rest at a comfortable distance, but the crowd made Loki uneasy, even if they now seemed mostly friendly. They pointed their own phones towards them, and called greetings and declarations of love to Thor, and to ‘Iron Man’. One even welcomed them to ‘Planet Earth’. 

“Are you sure you will not join us, Tony Stark?” Thor asked, as they all climbed into the ‘van’ and settled on comfortable padded benches. “We would delight in your company, and Lady Pepper’s as well!”

Tony shook his head. “I’m going to delight in Pepper’s company all by myself, thanks! Maybe next time.” He turned a pensive look on Loki. “Sorry about the little misunderstanding, earlier. I didn’t know you were Thor’s brother.”

“I didn’t know you were his friend,” Loki replied, archly. Though it didn’t much surprise him, in retrospect.

“Well, no harm, no foul, I guess,” Tony grinned. “I hope you’re not leaving too soon, though. I’d love a chance to get you in my lab. Run a few scans of you doing your thing, with the ice and all. Neat trick.”

“Maybe.” Once Loki found out what a lab was, and what a scan involved. 

“Good night, then! Have fun with Fury!” Tony slid the panel shut, and the van rumbled and started to move.

There was a moment of peace at last as they all regarded each other. 

Then Fandral had to spoil it. “So, did Loki get a chance to tell you about being the sorcerer prince of Jotunheim?”

“He did not. I see I have missed a great deal.” Thor turned to Loki with his usual friendly regard. “Well, brother, will you tell me now why you look like a frost giant? Some cunning deception, I gather?”

“No. Or at least, no deception of mine.” Loki gathered his nerve, firmed his resolve and stated it flatly. “I’m not really your brother. I’m Jotun.”

Thor roared out a laugh. “You're a talented liar, brother. Always have been, but you will not make me believe such a tale as that.”

“It’s true, Thor,” Sif affirmed solemnly. “While you’ve been here, we have been on Jotunheim. We just came from there. Loki is Jotun.”

“You jest,” Thor insisted, looking around at all their serious faces. “This makes no sense! Loki, we have grown up together. You are my brother!”

“The All-Father brought me back from Jotunheim as an infant, after the last battle,” Loki said. "Thor, he told me so himself.”

“No! This cannot be.” Thor shook his head as if to clear it.

“The Jotuns aren’t such bad fellows, when you get to know them,” Volstagg volunteered. “The food is terrible, but the liquor is amazing stuff.”

“Nowhere near enough women,” Fandral grinned. “Although the one we met took quite a shine to our Loki.”

“Fandral!” Loki didn’t want to drag Angrboða into this morass of a conversation.

“I thought so too,” Sif teased. “You were all she wanted to talk about, and you seemed to like her, I thought.”

“I did, but it isn’t important right now.”

“But you are Aesir. You always were, before,” Thor persisted.

“I thought so too, until we went to Jotunheim. During the fighting, one of the frost giants caught my arm, and I started changing. My skin turned blue.”

“I saw him get grabbed,” Volstagg nodded. “Didn’t notice the turning blue part, though.”

“It could be some kind of spell. A curse.”

“I hoped it might be, at first, but it wasn’t. I went down to the Vault and picked up the Casket of Ancient Winters. The cold changed me back to my Jotun form.”

“It’s a Jotun relic, Loki,” Thor insisted. “It just did something to you to make you look like one of them. I’m sure it will wear off or we can find some way to cure it.”

“Thor, you are not listening!” Loki had to work to control his temper. “Father confronted me in the Vault. He told me what I am. Who I am. How he found me and brought me to Asgard.”

“Who? What do you mean, who?”

“Laufey’s son,” Loki figured it was best to have the whole truth out at once, before the temptation to prevaricate overwhelmed him. “It turns out that I am Laufey and Fárbauti’s son.”

Thor looked like he wanted to hammer something, if only something would present itself.

“This is not possible. Father would not have lied all these years, about such a thing. Mother would never have.”

Loki sighed, raking back his hair and worrying the tip of one horn for a moment. “He did. She said- Mother said she didn’t approve of him lying, but she didn’t tell me... I didn’t know.”

“Why? Why would they do such a thing?”

“Which thing? Adopt a frost giant, or lie about it?”

“Lie about it!” Thor thundered. 

“They said... Father said it was to protect me.”

“From what?”

“If I had to guess, from being called Jotun scum.”

At least Thor had the grace to look guilty. “I am sorry for saying such a thing. You know I have no gift of words, brother.”

“I’m aware,” Loki crossed his arms. “And I’m not your brother.”

“You are,” Thor reached out and grasped his hand, squeezing nearly to the point of pain. “We were raised together! We played together! We fought together! Does this not count more than blood?”

“Does it?” Loki returned the grip. “Does it, Thor? You once promised to slay all the monsters, remember? Will you now call one brother?”

“You are my brother, Loki.” Dragging him close, Thor hugged him. “Whatever else you are, that will never change.”

Loki pulled away as far as Thor would allow, which was arm’s length, since he would not let go. “Asgard will never accept me, once the truth is out. You know that.”

“Then we will change Asgard. Together.” Typical Thor. Believed he could do anything.

“Sentiment,” Loki sneered.

“Absolutely.” Thor turned his most infectious smile on Loki. “Mother always says you have the head and I have the heart. So we need each other.”

A cold knot of doubt still lingered in Loki’s gut. “You’re sure. You’re sure you still want me for a brother?”

“Don’t be an idiot. You are my brother, whether I want you or not.”

“All right then.” Loki gave in. Surrendered gladly, just this once. “I suppose I won’t tell Mother you tried to kill me with Mjölnir.”

“I did not!” Thor denied, indignantly.

“You did so!”

“I didn’t throw it that hard. I meant to take you prisoner.”

“Oh really?” Loki raised his right eyebrow, since he considered it the more sarcastic one.

“I didn’t know what was going on. I thought it might be a good idea to have a prisoner to question!”

Hogun, Hogun! of all people, let out a soft hoot of laughter, but immediately schooled his face back into its habitual stoniness when Loki and Thor both turned to stare at him.

After a moment, Loki resumed the argument. “You thought that, did you?”

Thor was not backing down, but he did look suspicious of traps. “I did.”

“Really?” Loki smiled.

“Yes, really,” Thor was looking a little more annoyed now.

“You thought. All by yourself,” Loki crooned sweetly. “I am so proud of you!”

Now Thor was distinctly irked. “If I had known it was you, I might have thrown it a little harder.”

“Bully.” Loki accused.

“Liar,” Thor retorted.

Loki returned, “Arrogant.”

“Manipulative,” Thor shot back.

“Ooh, big word.” Loki waggled both eyebrows, grinning.

“Bigger fist, if you don’t shut up soon.”

The van hit a bump, causing them all to lurch and sway, and struggle to regain their balance.

“Brothers, then,” Loki allowed.

Thor leaned back, gratified in his victory. “Brothers.” 

Not content with that, Thor continued, even more smugly, “So. Fandral said something about a girl?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reunited and it feels so good!


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor's thoughts on things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay, folks. There was work, there was writer's block, and to top it off, a cold turned my brain to snot for a few days, but I think I'm on the mend now. I hope to get a few chapters done before I have to give up my free time to preparing taxes. *Shudders*

Although Thor was eager to hear everything that had happened since he had been exiled, he refrained from pressing his friends and especially his brother for details. It was clear even to him that they had been through a great deal and needed to rest, so he kept to light topics as they enjoyed the small mountain of deli sandwiches, fruit, cheese, nuts, cakes and pies provided by Agent Sitwell.

The conversation gradually slowed and lapsed altogether as first Fandral, then Loki drifted off in the comfort of the private jet’s deep leather seats, and Volstagg slumped over the table, half-eaten hoagie in hand.

Hogun was never one to talk if he could avoid it, and though Sif was still awake, she seemed to have run out of things to say, and was leafing curiously though a copy of GQ she had found. So Thor had time and silence enough for introspection.

It was not something Thor engaged in very often, and he didn’t consider himself very good at it. His mind was a chaotic jumble as he sat gazing at his sleeping brother, but for once he did not try to escape it by seeking out something to do. These problems could not be solved by battle, though he often felt that fighting was all he was truly good at.

That thought brought him back to the fact he had been trying not to face for hours now. He had nearly killed his little brother. 

Thor’s stomach knotted tight around what little food he had managed to choke down while pretending to the others that nothing was wrong. 

He had not lied to Loki. He had never been able to lie to Loki. It had been his intention to take a prisoner when he had hurled Mjölnir, but it had not been his first intention. His original plan had been pure and simple annihilation. Only at the very last instant had he changed his mind, and he could not think why. He could not remember making the decision. One moment his heart had been full of murder for the monsters who had dared to threaten his home, and who had been the cause of his banishment, and the next moment- oh, so nearly too late, he had pulled the blow.

He recalled feeling very clever in that moment. Loki had been very much in his thoughts, and the Man of Iron had not been in any danger that he could see, so for once he had thought of something other than killing his enemy outright.

But he almost hadn’t. What if he hadn’t? How could he have lived with that? How could he ever tell his parents? How could they ever forgive him for killing Loki? How could he ever forgive them for allowing him to make such a terrible mistake?

Sleep had stolen years from Loki’s face, and despite the change of skin color, the small ebony horns and the pale raised lines traced over his features, Thor could still easily picture him as the gangly fledgeling magician he had dragged along on so many quests. 

Without much effort, he could even still see him as the gracile child who had slept with him in the nursery, before he had proclaimed himself too old. How they had talked and tussled when they were supposed to be asleep. 

“When I grow up,” they would say, and each try to outdo one another’s imagined adult achievements. Thor would be the mightiest warrior. Loki would be the greatest wizard. They would get into tremendous fights over who was going to be king, before they were old enough to understand what it meant.

Loki would have nightmares and wake up, and Thor would hold him and promise to protect him till he went back to sleep. Loki would defend his older brother in his own way, by taking the blame for a great deal of the mischief Thor got into, especially when things went wrong.

After all that, how could they not be brothers? How could his brother be Jotun? Jotuns were monsters, weren’t they? Although his friends seemed to have changed their minds on that point. 

Thor could not say that he didn’t care. He did care, but he was not going to give up his brother. If Loki turned into something a hundred times worse than an frost giant, he would still be his brother. Nothing could change that.

After his father had banished him, Thor had come to realize that he was not worthy of being king, and even getting his powers back had not changed his opinion of that. He had never wanted the work of ruling, he had only wanted the adulation. He had come to understand that he was not wise enough to be king. He did not see how he ever could be, and part of him had been relieved to think of Loki being ready to take up the responsibility.

Now that was never going to happen. Despite what he had said to Loki, he knew that. Asgard would never accept Loki as king, but he would force them to accept him as his brother.

His spinning thoughts were interrupted as Volstagg snorted, then began to snore resoundingly. Loki and Fandral did not stir, which spoke volumes for their weariness, but Hogun and Sif both looked to him to lead an escape from the noise.

Thor grinned, remembering a hundred other nights spent camping with his friends, and Volstagg’s infamous snoring, and led them back to the rear compartment. The Dessault Falcon 7X was not a very large plane, but there was at least a partition that blocked off some of the noise.

“I cannot tell you how much I have wanted to see you,” he told them simply, as they settled into new seats.

“We wanted to be here sooner,” Sif said. “We tried, and Heimdall was going to let us through, but your mother found out before we could leave.”

“She was not pleased,” Hogun understated. 

Thor chuckled. His friends had never believed him about what a formidable woman his mother could be. It had always been his father they had thought the sterner parent.

“You are fortunate that she did not sentence you to cleaning the royal stables,” he informed them. “Or washing dishes in the palace for a month.”

“I wish she had,” Sif said. “At least then we would know what was happening there. Maybe we would have been able to come get you sooner, when whatever it was started happening.”

“Perhaps. But I think I am glad you were with Loki. He needed you more than I did.”

Sif snorted, “He was perfectly safe, Thor. He’s the Jotuns long-lost magician prince. You should have seen how they greeted him when he showed his face. The whole lot of them except for the king and his consort just dropped to their knees. They call him ‘Gifted One.’”

“That is not what I meant. I still cannot believe our parents have lied to us like this, and for him to find out like that.” Thor shook his head. “He could not have taken it well.”

“Well, no, not at first.” Sif worried a hangnail in her teeth, then continued, “I think he’s doing better with it now, though.”

“True.” Hogun nodded once, not specifying exactly what he agreed with. 

“Was he very upset?” Thor questioned, then shook his head. “How could he not be? Even if our parents had just lied about him being adopted, that would have been bad enough, but to find out he’s not even Aesir?”

“He was upset at first. Really upset.” At the gloomy look on Thor’s face, Sif hurried to say something more positive. “But he seems to be over it now. He’s even going to go live there for a year. Maybe longer.”

Her prince did not share her opinion of this news, evidently. “My brother is not going to live with the frost giants.” 

Sif blew out a breath, agravated. “Thor, they weren’t- They are not like everyone says. I even liked Fárbauti, and Angrboða. Besides, he’s not really your brother.”

Thor leaned forward, his usually laughing blue eyes now hard and cold as the frozen seas of Jotunheim.

“Sif, you are my friend and I love you, but do not ever say that again. He is my brother.”

Not quite ready to back down, Sif tried her final gambit. “He let those frost giants into Asgard, Thor. Just to ruin your coronation. He admitted it to your mother.”

Thor paused in rummaging around the mini-frig for a beer and looked to Hogun for confirmation. The warrior inclined his head once.

Somehow, Thor found he was not really that surprised. The timing of the attack had seemed strange, as if it were a challenge to him. As if it had been personal. He had certainly responded as if it were personal. Not at all how a king should behave.

He opened a beer and offered it to Hogun, who accepted it, tasted it, made a face, but continued drinking it. Sif declined the next one, so Thor sat down and took a sip.

“Did he say why?”

“He didn’t want you to have the regency,” Sif said. “You know he’s jealous of you, Thor. He told us so, in Jotunheim. He said he would be a better king.”

Hogun spoke up, briefly, “That’s not what he said. He thinks you would be a bad ruler.”

Thor scowled, mostly to himself. “He was right, was he not? I nearly started a war.” I nearly killed my own brother.

“I still think it was just jealousy,” Sif opined.

“So what?” Thor snarled at Sif. She looked taken aback. Well, he had never lost his temper with her before.

“You don’t think I am just as jealous?” Glancing back towards where Loki and the others slept, he lowered his voice, if not his intensity.

“Loki is better suited to ruling than I am. He is clever, he is patient. He thinks before he acts. The Norns know he is much more willing to work at it!” Mother loves him best. At least, it always seemed so.

“I am not completely ignorant of how I am thought of in the other realms, you know. Outside of Asgard, everyone probably thinks he would make a better king.”

“You will be a great-” 

Sif’s argument was drowned out by a tremendous tearing sound, and the plane lurched and bucked like a wild horse attempting to throw a rider. Everyone scrambled to brace themselves, but in only a few seconds the jet settled back into a smooth flight, and the only sound was the hum of the engines.

The calm did not last. A voice Thor did not recognize called out, high and weak and pained, “Prince Loki? Prince Thor?” 

The partition banged open as they all jumped to their feet, and Agent Sitwell leaned into the compartment. “Were you expecting company?”


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At last, we find out what is happening on Asgard.

The opening of the Way woke Loki instantly, but the world suddenly twisting and tilting kept him clinging helplessly to his seat, eyes screwed shut against a wave of nausea. Beside him, Fandral yelped, and other voices were raising cries of alarm and surprise. 

Thankfully, the sensation of pitching and wallowing quickly passed, and he dared to unclench his teeth and swallow, and cautiously open his eyes. It took a few seconds to remember where he was. Midgard. On the flying ship-jet. With Thor, the Terrible Four and mortals that Thor had allied himself with.

“What’s happening?” Fandral asked, clinging just as tightly to his own chair.

Volstagg had tumbled out of his seat, and was wedged between Loki’s legs and the table, still snoring. Loki kicked him.

The snoring stopped, and bloodshot blue eyes peered up at him. “What?” 

“Prince Loki?” A wavering voice called from behind him. “Prince Thor?”

Loki kicked harder, struggling to get up. “Get off of me!” 

Volstagg began to slowly lumber upright, but Loki had lost all patience, and climbed over the back of his seat in time to see Thor coming back through a small door in the back of the plane.

Fandral had reached their visitor first, and was sitting on the floor, supporting a shaking Ljósálfar. As Loki knelt next to them both, he saw that the bright crimson he had at first taken for the Light Elves usual colorful costume was, in truth, blood. A lot of blood, soaked through shirt and vest and leggings, and the elf was holding his right arm tightly against his body. The Ljósálfar were always pale, but this one was practically translucent, and his expression was one of shock and horror.

The swordsman looked up, clearly worried. “He’s in a bad way.”

Sif was trying to peer around Thor’s shoulders. “What’s happening?”

“Hogun!” Loki found the warrior next to him as he called out. “We need healing stones.”

“Only one left.” Hogun produced it from a belt pouch and started to push Loki out of his way so he could work.

The elf’s darting eyes landed on Thor and he tried to struggle towards him. “Prince Thor! I must tell you-” Blood burst from his lips in a spray as wracking coughs shook him.

Loki put a hand on his chest to hold him, and blood immediately began to ooze between his fingers. “You must be still. You can tell us when we’ve healed you.” If they could heal him. Could just the one stone repair so much damage?

Agent Sitwell took one look and darted off. “I’ll get the first aid kit.”

“Must tell the princes-” the Ljósálfar wheezed as he continued to try to get to Thor, who crowded down next to them and lay one hand on a slender shoulder.

“We are here,” Thor tried to calm him. “You can tell us in a few moments.” 

Hogun held the healing stone to the elf’s chest. It glowed brightly, then crumbled to dust, its power spent.

The Ljósálfar drew in a breath, seemingly eased, but he still gripped his injured arm. Blood was soaking into the carpet around them.

“Prince Thor?” 

“I am here.”

“Prince Loki?”

“I am also here.” At the elf’s continued confusion, he added, “I am Prince Loki, even if I do not look the same.”

“It’s him all right,” Fandral offered the elf a slight smile. 

“Freya said... you would be together... now.” The elf’s voice was weak, but his breathing was improved.

“We are. Freya sent you?” Loki asked. “What happened to you?”

“Evil things. Hunting in the dark pathways. The others... fought. Delayed them. So I could reach you.”

“That was bravely done,” Thor murmured. “They will be welcomed in Valhalla.”

“We’re almost at the Heliocarrier,” Agent Sitwell had returned, lugging a large case. “We have a state of the art infirmary standing by.”

Hogun had gently drawn the elf’s hand from his wounded arm, and now it was obvious that it was all but severed. “Needs a tourniquet.”

Agent Sitwell drew out a package and unwrapped a length of flexible cording, handing it over. “I have some training, if you’ll let me get down there.”

Thor started to move aside, causing the elf to reach for him again, frantic to deliver his message. “I must tell you!”

“Just a moment,” Loki urged Agent Sitwell, taking up the elf’s good hand. “Give us the message, so we can treat you.”

“Freya sent us. To bring you home, if we could. Asgard is ensorcelled. The Bifrost- You must help us.”

“Help you how? Who has done this?” Loki pleaded, desperate for answers at last. “Is the All-Father all right? The queen?”

“Frigga, the All-Father, besieged in Raven Tower. Sent word to Freya. To bring you home.” 

The elf’s vivid green-gold eyes fluttered shut, and Loki was terrified he had died. He gripped the frail hand in his till he felt bones bending under the pressure. 

“Tell us who has done this. What is happening in Asgard?”

“Malekith.” The elf opened his eyes and coughed again. “He wishes to rule all the realms.”

“Malekith the Accursed?” Thor growled. “The Erlking?”

“What has he done to Asgard?” Loki inserted the more important question.

“Asleep. All asleep. Even Heimdall. Malekith holds the Bifrost. He told King Frey, if we interfere, he will destroy us!” The elf’s voice rose to a near-shriek as Hogun tightened the tourniquet.

Ah. Loki leaned back, letting the pieces come together in his mind. Sleep was one spell that Odin could not ward against while he himself was in a magical sleep, and if Malekith had loosed the Wild Hunt into the dark pathways and was threatening to use the Bifrost to destroy Alfheim, the Ljósálfar would be helpless to come to Asgard’s aid.

A voice spoke from the ceiling. “We’ve reached the Heliocarrier and we’re cleared for landing. Please take your seats and fasten your seat belts.”

“If you’ll let me by?” Agent Sitwell was requesting again, tugging lightly on Thor’s arm.

“Of course.” Thor stood, and Loki started to release the elf’s hand to rise as well.

The elf held on. “One other thing,” he gasped. “Word from Frigga.”

“Yes?” Loki leaned close to hear the message from his adopted mother, even as Sitwell used a small pair of scissors to cut away blood-soaked clothing, revealing a multitude of angry, swollen bite wounds.

“If the Ways are closed. She said... What is no longer... in Odin’s keeping... will bring you home.”

“What?” But the elf had reached the end of his meager strength, and his eyes rolled up as he fainted.

“The rest of you should take a seat,” Sitwell urged, as he applied bandages, along with Hogun. “We’re about to land.”

Since there seemed little else to be done, they left the Ljósálfar to Hogun and the mortal and returned to their seats, sitting just as a series of bumps and change in the engine sound announced they had landed.

More mortals crowded on as soon as the door was opened, carrying a stretcher and taking over the efforts at healing with a myriad of strange devices. They asked half a dozen questions about blood types, body temperature and ‘drug allergies’ that, to their evident disgust, no one could answer, before charging away with their patient. It seemed healers were much the same on all the realms.

“They’ll do all they can,” Agent Sitwell promised.

Thor turned to Loki. “What do you think he meant, about what is no longer in Father’s keeping?” 

As much has he hated to admit it, that had Loki mystified. “I have no idea.”


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fury's debriefing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, dear readers, for the long delay. I won't bother giving my paltry excuses. (Skyrim is a huge time suck!) I'll try to do better, honest.

Being surprised was getting old, Loki thought, as they all followed Agent Sitwell off the private jet onto a flying fortress that seemed the size of a city. The healers were racing away with the injured Ljósálfar, but a pair of mortals stood nearby, waiting to meet them. 

Despite their unfamiliar clothing, Loki hazarded a guess that the first man, with his searching gaze and cloaking smile, was the higher-ranking, and the hard-bodied man at his side was his guard. From their near proximity, and the way they subtly shifted even closer as they approached, as if to guard each other from a possible threat, he also wondered if they might have a more personal relationship.

“Son of Coul! Barton!” Thor called exuberant greetings, striding forward and leaving them to trail in his wake, as usual. Agent Sitwell prudently stepped aside to allow Thor to clasp hands with the dark-haired man, and clap the blonde on the shoulder with enough force to rock him. “I thought you were away on a quest to free your comrade?”

“We were,” the Son of Coul nodded. “Now we’re back.”

“Quest accomplished,” the blonde, Barton, added, looking wryly amused.

“That is fine news! I also have tidings to tell!”

Before he could go on, the Son of Coul smoothly overrode him, “Director Fury wanted us to bring you straight to him when you arrived. You’ll need to tell him your news first.”

“Very well,” Thor replied, looking slightly daunted. “Let us go, then.”

Loki did not know what the title ‘Director’ indicated, but from Thor’s reaction, and the discipline and industry of the mortals they passed as they walked through what seemed miles of corridors, he assumed Fury was something like a general or war commander. Men and women would tense at the sight of them, coming alert, then relax into mere curiosity at the presence of either Thor or their mortal escorts, and then return to their tasks. None of them seemed particularly concerned at seeing a Jotun, albeit a small one. Loki wondered if the mortals, short-lived as they were, even remembered the invasion.

At last, they arrived in a kind of council room, with a long table filling most of it. A dark-skinned mortal sat at the far end of the table, doing something to a device that resembled a larger version of Thor’s phone. He looked up at their arrival, and Loki stopped in mid-step, surprised by how much the eyepatch and the austere expression reminded him of the All-Father. The surge of sudden homesickness was almost painful. Then Volstagg barged into him from behind, too slow to react to his abrupt halt.

Fortunately, Volstagg was not too slow to catch him. Loki was annoyed, shrugging off the help. It was hardly the impression he’d wanted to make, but he was secretly glad that, just in case his normally quick reflexes had failed, he hadn’t actually fallen on his face.

“Thor,” the man said, getting to his feet. “Introduce me to your friends.”

“My friends, this is Director Nick Fury of SHIELD. He is the commander in charge of many of Midgard’s finest warriors! Director,” Thor turned to indicate each of them in turn, “Sif the Shield Maiden, Volstagg the Lion of Asgard, Hogun the Grim, Fandral the Dashing, and my brother, Loki Silvertongue.”

As Fury’s gaze settled on him, Loki corrected, “Adopted brother.” Though Fury had not asked, and did not seem to care, either.

“Welcome to Earth,” Fury said, with an air of ownership that seemed more in keeping with a monarch than a general. “If you would all take a seat, I’d like to get started.”

Started with what? Loki wondered as they all obediently found places at the table.

“I’ve heard from Stark, who didn’t have much useful to say, except that you arrived in some kind of explosion that leveled a medieval monastery and started a blizzard of some kind. Care to elaborate?”

“Sir,” Agent Sitwell broke in. “Were you informed that we picked up a passenger rather unexpectedly, a few minutes before we landed?”

“I was told there was a medical emergency. Am I correct in assuming this surprise passenger is related?.”

“Yes, sir,” Sitwell told him. “We experienced what seemed to be turbulence, and he appeared out of thin air, covered in blood. He was badly injured; the medics aren’t sure he’s going to make it.”

“Teleported?” Fury asked.

I don’t think so, but it wasn’t clear.”

“He came through the Ways,” Loki said. “The pathways along Yggdrasil.”

“He is an elf,” Thor shrugged his way into the conversation. “It is how they journey between the realms.”

“An elf.” The Director repeated, so deadpan that Loki could not decide if the man thought they were lying, or raving, or if elves turned up in his flying vehicles on a regular basis.

“We apologize for the damage to your religious site. It was not intentional.”

“Just what did you intend?”

“We came through a portal from Jotunheim, to look for Thor, but we were not aware that it had been sealed from this end.”

“If it was sealed, how did you get through?” Fury asked.

“I believe our passage generated enough momentum to blast the gate open.” Which was fortunate, because they might have just as easily become trapped between the realms, unable to go forward or back.

“So it’s open here now, and you can get back the way you came?”

Loki considered. “No, I don’t think so. The portal is... it acts as a kind of force to push travelers through, like a bow launching an arrow.” He shrugged. “I am not sure, but I sensed nothing left of the portal in the place we came out. I suspect my fa- that Odin All-Father destroyed it during or after the war. Maybe he thought it would ensure the frost giants did not use it again, or he did not want anyone from this realm to stumble across it and end up in Jotunheim.”

“Thor has been hoping someone would get in touch,” Barton said. “Not that we haven’t appreciated having him around, mind you.”

“Truly, I have been greatly worried at the lack of word,” Thor nodded. “And it seems my fears are realized. Asgard has been attacked by enemies who have bewitched our people and taken control of the Bifrost.”

Fury came alert. “How do you know?”

“The elf was a messenger, sent by Frey and Freya, to warn us of the threat to his realm and our own.”

“Did you witness any of this, Agent Sitwell?” Fury asked. 

Sitwell nodded. “He wasn’t able to say much, but I did gather that Thor’s people need him back pretty urgently.”

“The message was to both me and my brother,” Thor corrected. “We are both needed.”

Loki turned to stare at his brother, who met his shocked look with a slight flush and a stubborn expression. What in the Nine Realms had happened to his vainglorious sibling?

The Son of Coul cleared his throat. “Was he supposed to take you back with him, the same way he got here?”

“Mayhap,” Loki turned to the mortal. “Though the Ways will be more perilous than usual, if Malekith has turned the Hunt loose in them.”

“I’m sure we can manage it, with Thor’s help,” Sif spoke up.

“Possibly.” As much as Sif’s confidence irritated him, Loki would be willing to take the risk. 

“Who is this Malekith?” Director Fury asked, leaning back in his seat.

“A powerful Svartalfar sorcerer,” Loki replied, “perhaps the true ruler of Svartalfheim, though officially Queen Alflyse rules there.”

“Maybe not, if they have invaded Asgard,” Fandral suggested. “We’ve been out of touch.”

“The dark elves are a secretive bunch anyhow,” Volstagg put in.

“Never mind for now,” Fury sat forward, impatient with the drabs of information that he didn’t have the context to understand. “What I need to know is if this is in any way a threat to this world?”

There was a moment of silence, and Loki resisted the urge to roll his eyes as Thor and his comrades absorbed the shocking fact that the mortals were more concerned for their own interests than that of Asgard’s.

“Yes,” Loki replied. “The messenger said Malekith intended to rule all the realms. He already controls the Bifrost, which has the potential to destroy any world on which it is turned. If he gains possession of the artifacts in the All-Father’s Vault, he will be unstoppable.”

“I see.” A muscle jumped in Fury’s cheek as he clenched his fist. “Then I guess we will have to stop him before he gets them.”

“Yes, we will,” rumbled Thor. The lights flickered, seemingly in response to his mood. 

Loki wondered what the mortals thought they might be able to do, to affect the outcome of wars fought between beings they had once thought of as gods and monsters. Then again, they were depending on Midgard’s healers to save the Ljósálfar messenger. If he died, they would be left with only the mysterious suggestion from Frigga.

“I need to get a report from the medics.” Fury got to his feet, purpose gleaming in his one eye and determination in every line of his body. “Agents Coulson and Barton can show you to guest quarters. You look like you could use some rest.”

Loki gave the man a shallow but sincere bow of thanks. “We would be glad to accept your hospitality.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of you probably know by now that Malekith is going to be the villain of 'Thor: The Dark World'. Nothing in this story is likely to be related to what happens in the next movie in any way.
> 
> Thank you to the readers for your patience with this slow and lazy writer.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 of Thor's adventures on Midgard, as told by Thor and many of the people he's met.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Cliffhanger! I will try to get the second half up asap. I know this is a terrible tease, but I wanted to go ahead and post.

“Your turn now, Thor,” Volstagg urged, once Loki, Sif and the Warriors Three had finished telling an abbreviated version of all that had occurred since they had been parted. 

“Yes, Thor, tell us what you’ve been doing!” Fandral nodded, and was backed up by many voices from around the table. The cafeteria of the Heliocarrier was a kind of feasting hall, Loki supposed, and an exchange of stories was appropriate, although since they were breaking their fast there was no alcohol, only tea and fruit juices, and a dark, bitter drink called coffee, which Thor had recommended but he had not liked.

Most of the mortals that Thor had met on Midgard seemed to have joined them at their table, listening raptly to the adventures on Jotunheim. Agents Sitwell and Coulson had awakened them, bringing gifts of clean clothing and then escorting them to meet Thor, who had risen much earlier to meet Jane Foster and her mentor and assistant, and others had wandered over to be introduced, or just slipped into an empty seat without disturbing the story. 

Clint Barton had joined them, along with a beautiful, rather dangerous looking redhead named Natasha. Loki had been mildly surprised to see Tony Stark again, but the Man of Iron had merely shrugged and said that someone named ‘Pepper’ had insisted he come and help out.

Thor stood, brandishing his coffee cup with a flourish. “You wish to hear the tale of my adventures on Midgard?” As always, everyone turned to listen, shouting encouragement.

“Very well, my friends, I will tell you!” He swigged down his coffee, looked as if he were about to hurl the cup to the floor, then glanced at Jane and checked the motion, setting it carefully on the table instead. She smiled approvingly.

“You know that Father and I quarreled most bitterly after he rescued us from Jotunheim,” Thor began. “I was wroth, and my blood was fired with battle, and I behaved without wisdom, both in leading us there, and in what I said to the All-Father. That he only banished me here with my powers stripped from me was less punishment than I deserved, but of course, I did not think so at the time.”

It was difficult to credit that Thor had learned even this much humility in such a short time, but when Loki considered how much he had changed, bereft of his own magic and forced to cope with an unfamiliar world, perhaps it was not so unlikely.

As usual, Sif defended Thor, even from himself. “You were only doing what you thought was right.”

“Yes,” Thor agreed, nodding. “But I was not right, nor was I thinking overmuch. I was only angry, and reacting in wounded pride.” His gaze landed briefly on Loki, making him wince a little in guilt before his smile blazed up again and he continued his tale.

“Father was angry as well, and he hurled me down the Bifrost at somewhat greater than usual speed. My landing was most violent, but it was very pleasant to wake with a beautiful maiden looking down at me in concern.”

“Darcy hit him with our van,” Jane Foster said, looking flustered. 

Darcy, Jane’s assistant, looked indignant, “Says the woman who was pulling on the steering wheel. I wasn’t about to drive into that vortex thing. Anyway, I was willing to give him CPR, remember.”

“I was not harmed,” Thor assured both women. “Though I was confused as to where I was, I was still angry. I got to my feet and began to bellow at Father, and Heimdall, staggering around and bawling like a stunned bilgesnipe,” he admitted with a rueful chuckle.

“We thought he was injured,” Jane said.

“Or drunk,” Darcy confided.

“Or possibly disturbed,” said Erik Selvig, the older scholar who seemed a kind of father figure to Jane.

“I can just picture it now,” Fandral chortled, raising a bite of syrup-drenched waffle on his fork.

Loki could too. He’d seen Thor behave just like that entirely too many times to count, as if being sufficiently loud and demanding would get him his way, and entirely too often it had seemed to work.

“When I demanded to know where I was, Darcy pointed her weapon at me, and I spoke very arrogantly to her, “You dare to threaten me, Thor, with some puny weapon?”

Thor paused to let his audience imagine the small, feisty Darcy standing up to a loud, angry Thor. “She was not amused, and the next thing I knew, I had been struck by a lightning bolt that felled me like a tree!”

“She tased him,” Jane tried to explain. “It’s supposed to be safe. Mostly.”

In her defense, Darcy told them, “He was freaking me out!”

Thor resumed his narrative. “I woke in the place of mortal healers, in no better mood, though now I know they were only trying to help, and it was wrong of me to harm them.”

“There were no serious injuries, thankfully, but a lot of property damage,” Agent Coulson spoke up for the first time. “We had it taken care of.”

“So you fought your way out?” Volstagg guessed, as he took advantage of the pause to exchange a now empty plate of sausage and eggs for one piled high with pancakes.

“Indeed I did not!” Thor replied, his eyes sparkling with laughter. “I was giving battle, bragging as always how they were no match for the mighty Thor, when they stabbed me with an enchanted needle, forcing me to sleep.”

“Really?” Loki perked up at this mention of magic. He hadn’t thought it was practiced on Midgard. Such a needle would be a handy thing to have.

“It wasn’t magic,” Tony Stark snorted, “It was pharmacology.”

“Drugs,” Darcy enlightened them. “Thorazine, I bet.”

“Haloperidol,” Agent Coulson corrected, “with a lorazepam chaser.”

Jane gave the agent a curious look. “Is there anything you people don’t know?” He just smiled benignly and didn’t answer.

Thor waved off these technical details with the same indifference he had always shown when Loki tried to explain magic to him, or philosophy, or just about anything that didn’t involve fighting, feasts or women.  
“Most effective potions, whatever they may be called. When I woke again, I was a prisoner, bound hand and foot to a bed.”

“I hope the next part involves beautiful, scantily clad women?” Fandral grinned lewdly.

“We are not discussing your dreams, Fandral,” Sif retorted.

“You would be amazed at how many men will fall for that, though,” Natasha observed, offhandedly.

“For you-OOFF!” Fandral’s effort to charm Natasha was cut short by Sif elbowing him in the gut.

“Pray continue, my Prince,” Sif smiled sweetly as Fandral tried to suck in a breath. “You were being held prisoner by the mortal healers?”

“Aye!” Thor boomed, nodding. “I tried to break free, but I was weakened by my travails, so I asked myself, what would Loki do?”

“Loki the Weak?” Loki asked, gritting his teeth.

“Loki the Clever,” his brother corrected, turning that sun-like smile his way and melting away most of Loki’s resentment. “Loki who is always telling me I can’t solve all my problems by fighting.”

“I would like to think I would never have gotten myself into such a fix in the first place,” Loki sniffed.

“So you did something clever, then?” Volstagg asked, wonderingly.

“Not so very clever for Loki, but for me...” Thor grinned. “I quietly wriggled free, and then I crept out without being seen.”

“You snuck out rather than fight?” Sif sounded vaguely appalled.

“They were not enemies,” Thor reminded her. “They meant no harm.”

“It is not always wrong to avoid battle,” Hogun offered. 

“Then what happened?” Loki asked.

Darcy bounced in her seat. “Jane hit him with the car again!”

“He walked right behind me!” Jane replied, defensively.

“It’s true,” Thor conceded cheerfully. “ I had not yet learned to be wary of Midgardian automobiles!”

“Are you sure she wasn’t doing it on purpose?” Clint Barton’s sense of humor looked to be nearly as appalling as Fandral’s, Loki noted.

“Why would she do such a thing?” Sif bristled.

“She didn’t even know him yet.” Volstagg didn’t seem aware that this comment could be said to argue both for and against the idea of Jane Foster intentionally hitting his brother with a large heavy metal object traveling at great speed. Loki raised a napkin to hide a smile, and noticed several of the mortals muffling laughter.

“I am sure she meant no harm, since she then took me to her home and succored me, giving me clothing and Pop Tarts to eat.”

“Doesn’t mean she didn’t bump you on purpose,” Tony Stark stated, sardonically, “Just means she didn’t mean to break you. I’ve known a few women who-”

“Nobody wants to hear about your sexual conquests, Stark,” Natasha cut in.

“I’ll have you know I’ve turned down book deals, and even a movie based on my sexual conquests!” 

Fandral gave the Man of Iron an appraising look, perhaps thinking of getting together with him to swap stories, or else get an inside track on seducing mortal women.

“Just ignore him,” Barton advised. “Go on with your story,” he urged Thor. “I think this was about when Phil arrived in New Mexico to investigate either a satellite crash or alien technology that had made a big damn crater in the desert, and was stirring up the locals.”

Agent Barton inclined his head in a nod and continued sipping coffee.

“Yeah, he stole all our stuff.” Darcy still sounded aggrieved about this. 

“Darcy, will you get over it? They gave your iPod back, safe and sound. It’s not like they confiscated your whole life’s work.” Jane sounded like she might be holding a bit of a grudge herself.

“You got that back too, along with a job,” Barton reminded her.

“That’s not the point!”

“We have a meeting with Fury at noon, so maybe you should let Hammer Time get on with it?” Stark suggested. “This is about when Erik here called me and asked me to fake up some ID and get our Thunder Cloud out of SHIELD custody, right?”

“Pretty much,” Selvig leaned back in his chair. “He heard about the satellite from someone talking about it in the diner, and jumped up to go after it without any kind of explanation.”

“What is a satellite?” Loki wanted to know.

“It was Mjölnir,” Thor explained(not).

“Mjölnir is a satellite?” Loki had been under the impression that it was a hammer.

“We told the locals it was a satellite,” Coulson’s answer made a little more sense. “We didn’t want it to get out that it was a mysterious alien artifact.”

“You also told people it was radioactive,” Darcy added.

“It is,” Barton argued. “Sort of. It gives off some kind of energy signature, anyhow.”

“Thor promised he would tell me everything if I would drive him out to the site to get it,” Jane informed them. “But Erik was pretty sure he was a lunatic, so I had to turn him down at first.”

“At first?” Fandral looked from her to Thor.

“After SHIELD took all my research, I decided it was worth the risk,” Jane said.

“So you went and got Mjölnir back?” Volstagg had eaten everything on the table, but the cafeteria did not have servants, and he seemed too interested in the tale to get up in search of more.

“I intended to. I arrived at the tents where the mortals had gathered to guard Mjölnir, and fought my way in.” 

“Even as a human, he could fight,” Barton laughed. “You should have seen him plowing through SHIELD agents. They were pissed.”

“But not you?” Loki asked, since Barton had said ‘they’, not ‘we’.

“I was watching from above with an arrow trained on him the whole time. He was just lucky that Phil was more interested in seeing what happened than in my taking him out.”

“Lucky for you, too,” Sif snarled softly at this threat to Thor, even though Barton was clearly a friend, or at least ally now.

Volstagg had consumed a great deal of the ‘coffee’, and it appeared to be making him unable to sit still. “So what happened?” 

Thor’s smile was not a smile that Loki could remember ever having seen before. It looked oddly rueful. “After I had fought my way to it, I found I could not lift it. I was not worthy.”

Hogun broke the moment of uncomfortable silence. “Why not?”

Thor’s smile twisted a little more. “Because I was what Father called me, I think. A spoiled, greedy, cruel boy.”

“Arrogant and stupid, too,” Loki could not resist adding, under his breath.

Of course Thor heard him. “Yes, brother. As you so often told me.”

Thor’s easy smile filled Loki with shame. “I am sorry,” he began, but Thor stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“We will talk about that later,” he promised. “We have much to talk about, but there is not much time before we must go to make plans, and there is still much to tell about how I learned to be more worthy of the power of Thor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things will diverge a good deal from the events in 'Thor' in the next part, since Loki wasn't there to send the Destroyer. Hope you enjoy it!


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Thor's adventures on Earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another cliffhanger, sorry! I am writing as quick as I can, but work has picked up and I don't have a lot of free time. It may be a few weeks before I can post the next part.

Engrossed by the storytelling, no one had noticed Agent Sitwell leave, but he now reappeared at the table with a tray holding several drink carafes, and dispensed refills of juice and coffee. He also put down a smaller pitcher of cream and a selection of paper packets. 

Loki watched with interest as some of the mortals added either the cream, the contents of paper packets, or both, to their coffee. After some discussion of the merits of cream and sugar (or whiskey) in coffee, Loki was persuaded to give the drink another chance, and he found that properly prepared with the rich cream, four packets of sugar, and then chilled, it was quite good.

Tony and Clint had made disgusted faces at him, and said he was wasting perfectly good coffee, but Jane and Natasha had said it was fine, and that they hoped they could take him to a ‘Starbucks’ soon.

Fortified with his own steaming cup, Thor resumed telling his story.  
“As I said, I had fought my way to Mjölnir, but I could not lift it. I had won the battle, yet I was defeated. The mortals that I had fought came and took me prisoner, and I was so sunk in my misery that I did not care.”

“It kind of surprised me,” Barton admitted. “He acted so sure he could lift it, even thought nothing else we had tried could even budge it.”

Loki could not help but repeat something he had said over and over in the years since Thor had been gifted with Mjölnir. “You depend too much on that hammer. You have other talents.”

“It was not just the loss of Mjölnir.” Thor paused to marshal his thoughts before saying, “Before I was banished, I had never given much thought to why I thought I should wield Mjölnir, no more than I wondered if I would be a good king someday.”

He gave Sif a quelling look as she opened her mouth, and she shut it and let him talk. Loki suppressed a wave of jealousy; he wished he could get her to shut up that easily. Still, the ice trick had been effective, and he had better command of it now.

“If I had thought about it at all, then, I would have said that I was worthy of both hammer and crown because of my skill in battle.” Thor shrugged his wide shoulders restlessly. “The All-Father was a great warrior in his youth, you know. He defeated the fire demon, Sutur, in single combat. He united Asgard and Vanaheim, and defeated the Jotun invasion of Midgard.”

Loki nodded, along with Sif and the Warriors Three. All of them had grown up hearing tales and songs of Odin’s great deeds. The mortals just listened, curiously.

“Only it did not seem to me that the All-Father of those stories was the same man as my father,” Thor told them. “My father did not lead armies, or fight monsters, and he did not seem to want me to do so either.”

Exasperated, Loki pointed out, “Thor, you have fought dozens of monsters.”

“Hundreds,” Hogun said.

“Depending on your definition,” Fandral nodded. 

Thor waved this away. “Yes, but we had to sneak away for most of the really good ones, and Father was always furious about it afterwards.”

“If by the good ones you mean the times we nearly died,” Loki agreed, thinking back. Yes, Odin would have forbidden most of the really dangerous quests they had been dragged into by Thor, and he had been very angry, but he had never seriously punished them beyond confining them to the palace until he had calmed down. At least, not until after Jotunheim. 

“I believed that to be a great warrior was what made a great king.” He shook his head. “I wanted my chance to be like Father, fighting great battles. It did not seem fair that he did not want me to do so.”

“He’s one of those ‘do as I say, not as I do’ dads, then?” Tony Stark asked.

“He lost a father and two brothers to war, and many friends,” Loki remarked, taking another sip of the sweetened ice coffee. “He did not want to risk you.”

“Or you,” Thor added. 

Loki only lowered his eyes, not wanting to argue about whether or not his adopted father might have considered him more expendable. While he had never been inclined to go on foolish quests without Thor’s invitation, many of his magic studies had been equally risky, and Odin had never tried to forbid him. Then again, it could be that the All-Father trusted him to be less insanely reckless than Thor.

Sif pushed her dishes away to lean on the table. “I don’t understand what this has to do with Mjölnir, or your banishment.” 

“It is difficult to explain,” Thor said. “But as I was fighting to regain Mjölnir, I thought that was all I needed to do. That once I had found it and won it back from the mortals, I would be restored. Everything would be as before, and Father would see that I could fight my own battles, even alone, and without Mjölnir. I could sense it respond to me, feel its power grow stronger as I got closer. But when I reached it, I could not move it at all. I realized I had failed, and I did not have any idea what to do next. I wanted to prove myself worthy, but I did not know how.”

Remembering his own ill-considered attempts to prove his worth to their father, Loki reached up and gave Thor’s arm a sympathetic squeeze. His brother’s wilting smile renewed itself.

“So then what happened?” Volstagg demanded.

“You said you were captured?” Sif prodded.

“The warriors of SHIELD surrounded me, and bound me, and took me to see the Son of Coul.”

Everyone turned to look at the agent, who shrugged slightly. “I had him figured for a mercenary of some kind, after he made our agents look like a bunch of minimum wage mall cops. I guessed he wasn’t the brains of the operation,” Agent Coulson paused to let the laughter die down. “I wanted to know if he was working for someone, but he wasn’t talking.”

“I did not think you would believe me,” Thor said. “No one else had. Not even Jane, though she wished to believe.”

“I probably wouldn’t have,” Coulson agreed, “but before we could get a word out of him, Doctor Selvig showed up and tried to spring him with some story about a drunk MD/physicist on steroids and a blatantly faked ID.”

“Which Stark hacked into the records,” Agent Sitwell told them.

“Erik vouched for him,” Stark said, nonchalantly. “I figured he couldn’t be too dangerous.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t do a better job of it,” Natasha criticized mildly.

“I was busy dealing with the fallout from that asshole trying to blow up my expo,” Stark grumbled. “Anyway, when Selvig said he was in custody, I thought we were talking small town cops, or state cops at most. If he’d told me we were dealing with SHIELD-”

Erik sighed. “I didn’t really want to get you involved.”

“I was surprised they let him out,” Darcy spoke up. “They were all Men in Black about everything, then they just let him go with a warning.”

Coulson poured more coffee and stirred in cream. “We thought we could learn more by observing him, since he wasn’t volunteering any information.”

Sif turned to Selvig. “Thank you for aiding him.”

“I was really just trying to get rid of him, but I didn’t want Jane to feel responsible for getting him into trouble.”

Sif blinked, uncomprehending. “Get rid of him?” 

“It is true,” Thor acknowledged. “That was when Erik Selvig challenged me to a drinking contest to prove my affection for the Lady Jane!”

“You never told me this part,” Jane’s voice was disapproving.

“That is not what happened!” Selvig protested.

Thor’s face was the picture of baffled innocence. “That is how I recall it.”

Selvig scowled. 

Agent Coulson cleared his throat. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything about keeping him out of the bars.”

Jane frowned. “I remember you bringing Erik home too drunk to walk,” she said, looking at Thor.

He nodded. “We contested with drink. I won. That is why I did not have to leave town that night.”

“Wait... what?” Her frown turned to a glower, but she couldn’t seem to decide which of the two to affix it on. “You tried to get rid of Thor? Without mentioning this to me?”

Selvig protested, “I was worried about you, Jane.”

“Ooo boy,” Darcy murmured, sounding more excited than concerned.

“That doesn’t give you the right to meddle in my love life,” Jane huffed. “I can’t believe you tried to just kick him out with no idea of where to go or anything.”

“I can’t believe you thought you had any hope of outdrinking Thor,” Volstagg commented. “He can almost keep up with me.”

“I can outdrink you any day, my friend!” Thor challenged.

“Bring it on!” Volstagg blustered.

Loki hoped he could prevent them from testing this before they had saved Asgard.

“It does seem a bit unfair,” Fandral mused.

“I was mortal then,” Thor reminded them all. “It did not take nearly as much drink to affect me.”

“It seemed like a lot to me,” Erik grumbled. “Though I lost track around the sixth boilermaker.”

Laughing, Thor clapped the man on the back. “You put up a good effort! Your ancestors would be proud!”

“You had a drinking contest with boilermakers?” Tony Stark shook his head. “That’s nuts. Scotch is the only way to go for a drinking contest. Maybe vodka if there’s no scotch.”

Selvig heaved a sigh. “It was a stupid thing to do.”

“Yes, it was,” Jane relented and gave him a little smile. “Still, if you hadn’t been passed out, I wouldn’t have had the chance to go sit out under the stars with Thor, and talk about the Bifrost and the other realms.”

Seeing the lovestruck looks Thor and Jane exchanged, Fandral asserted, “I think I may try this method of getting rid of inconvenient chaperones myself.”

“Oh yes,” Sif purred. “Women are so very impressed by drunks.”

Volstagg drained his mug and reached for the coffee carafe. “I find it much easier to just drink with the women.”

Loki’s patience was wearing thin. Thumping the table with his empty cup, he demanded, “Will you let Thor finish? I want to hear what happened next.”

Everyone quieted and Thor went on with his story. “The next morning dawned clear and bright. Jane cooked a fine breakfast for us, and I aided her by washing the dishes. We were deciding how to secure Jane’s research-” 

“Thor smuggled my notes out of the SHIELD compound,” Jane explained.

“For which some people were soundly reamed out,” Barton added. “Though we didn’t find out till much later.”

Darcy looked up from sharing a cup of frozen yogurt with Loki. “We were sure that was what they were after when Agent Sitwell came roaring up.”

“Roaring?” Loki raised his eyebrows at Sitwell. It was difficult to picture him roaring, but men did not always behave as one would expect, in combat.

“Driving very fast,” Sitwell corrected this misapprehension. “I was in a hurry to find Thor and get him to safety.”

“Safety from what?” Volstagg belched.

“I knew it!” Sif exclaimed, “I knew we should have been here!”

Stabbing his spoon into the frosty, sprinkle-covered treat, Loki pointed out, “Since he’s fine now, he obviously didn’t need us.”

“That is not to say I would not have liked to have you at my side!” Thor assured them. “Had you been, we might have saved many innocent mortals, and much of their town!”

“From what, exactly?” Fandral inquired. 

Before Thor could reply, Darcy cheerfully answered, “From the giant robot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I invented the bit about Odin's father and brothers being killed in war, but it doesn't seem unreasonable that it could have happened that way. 
> 
> Thank you for your patience and your support, dear readers.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor concludes the tale of how he regained his powers on Earth!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, apologies to commenters that I didn't respond to! I love getting feedback, I just got overwhelmed by RL, and I wanted to get the rest of the story out for you guys asap.

The explanation of just what a ‘robot’ was took some time, with Thor, Stark, Darcy, Jane and Barton offering differing explanations, with frequent unhelpful references to various ‘movies’ that none of the Asgardians understood.

At last, they settled on the definition of a giant made of metal and armed with fire and projectile weapons.

Loki frowned. “Like the Destroyer?”

“Yes, very much like the Destroyer,” Thor nodded, “Only powered by science, instead of magic!”

“Actually, Doom’s machines supposedly incorporate some magic,” Agent Coulson interjected.

Surprised, Loki turned to the SHIELD agent. “Really? I had not thought magic much practiced on this realm. Who is this Doom?”

“Victor von Doom,” Coulson answered. “Monarch of Latveria, genius inventor and self-declared sorcerer.” 

“If he can create something similar to the Destroyer, he must be more skilled than I had thought possible for a mortal.”

“What is it you have against mortals, anyway?” Jane demanded.

“Nothing!” Loki hastened to assure her. “I am truly impressed by the accomplishments I have seen here, but magic is a discipline that requires decades, if not centuries of study. I wouldn’t have thought a mortal - a human, if you prefer that term, to have time.”

Stark quipped, “You do realize we live longer than we used to, back in the bronze age, or whenever it was, the last time you guys were around?”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Loki replied, suddenly realizing that it was likely offensive to remind these beings how short their lives were, compared to most other inhabitants of the Nine Realms. As tactfully as he could, he returned to the previous subject.  
“So this Victor von Doom is that skilled?”

“He’s probably one of the five most inteligent men on the planet,” Coulson’s tone was bland. 

Barton grimaced. “Too bad he’s bugfuck insane and ruthlessly evil.”

“Sounds intriguing,” Loki mused.

Thor remonstrated, “Brother, he is a villain!”

“A supervillain, even,” Natasha agreed.

“He tried to kill me, brother! While I do not begrudge him the attempt, he killed innocents in an attempt to take Mjölnir for his effort at conquering this world.”

Crossing his arms, Loki sniffed. “I did not say he was not malevolent. Just that I was interested!”

“Maybe if we ever manage bring him in, you can interview him,” Agent Sitwell suggested.

Tony Stark quipped, “SHIELD can always hire you as a consultant.”

“This is a wonderful idea,” Thor enthused. “Once we have defeated Malekith and his minions, we should return to Midgard and seek out this Doom! With Loki to combat his spells, we can surely defeat him easily!”

“Hmm,” Loki replied, noncommittally. “How did you defeat him before?”

“Yes. You were just about to tell of us of your battle with the giant mechanical man.” Volstagg repressed a burp. 

Thor’s brows knotted in concentration. “Where was I?”

Barton leaned forward, but Natasha spoke a beat before him. “Sitwell showing up.” 

“He said something about protective custody, but we didn’t believe him, not after they had confiscated my research.” Jane spoke up. “Erik was sure we were all going to be disappeared like some colleague of his.”

Coulson looked at Selvig over the rim of his coffee cup. “Are you talking about Doctor Banner?” 

The older man gave a reluctant nod.

“We haven’t got him, though we are keeping an eye on him. I’ll fill you in later if the Director okays it.”

“Back to the story!” Darcy yelled, around the last bite of frozen yogurt.

Obligingly, Thor continued, “I was willing to go with friend Sitwell, but Jane and Erik objected.”

“No way was I going with him,” Darcy muttered.

Jane tugged at a strand of her hair, twisting it around her finger. “We were still arguing when this huge thing came out of the sky and blew up Agent Sitwell’s car.”

“We all ran for cover, and it started laying waste to everything like something from a Japanese monster movie.” Darcy was apparently a big fan of movies about monsters and robots.

Sitwell said, “Coulson had called me and said the base was under attack, and to get Thor to a secure location till we understood his connection to the artifact.”

“We were confident he had some kind of connection, and if he wasn’t working for Doom, he’d be a target.” Coulson told them. “Either way, we thought it would be safer if Doom didn’t find out about him, or Doctor Foster. Unfortunately, he was already aware of both of them.”

“There was a traitor in SHIELD’s ranks,” Sitwell sighed. “One of the research team had already fed Doom their descriptions and location.”

“Agent Sitwell and his fellow agents made a valiant attack on the creature with their weapons, and distracted it while the rest of us attempted to aid the town’s inhabitants in escaping.” 

“It was complete chaos,” Jane said. “People running everywhere, buildings blowing up. We were trying to help evacuate a school, and we somehow got separated. I stepped out a door and the thing was right there in front of me. I thought I was going to die, but then it reached down and picked me up.”

“It looked just like King Kong grabbing Fay Wray, except not as much screaming and flailing,” Darcy said. “And with a flying robot instead of the gorilla.”

Jane flushed, remembering. “I don’t think I’d ever been so scared, or mad, in my entire life.”

“It took her back towards the base, and Thor took off after her at a dead run,” Erik said, approvingly. “I think he would have run the whole way, if I hadn’t got in the van and given him a lift.”

“I would have,” Thor confirmed. “But the van was much faster. We arrived at the site where Mjölnir had landed to find a siege. There were three of the giant robots, holding the warriors of SHIELD at bay, while many smaller robots constructed a fortress of metal.”

“We might have called in an airstrike, but most of the scientists were being held hostage on site,” Coulson said. “Barton was with me, and we were waiting for Stark and Natasha to show up before attempting a rescue, but Thor didn’t stop to consult with us. He just knocked out a few sentries and tried to sneak into the compound, again!” For the first time, the agent sounded almost peeved.

Shuddering to think of his brother without Mjölnir or his Asgardian strength and abilities charging straight into the lair of a sorcerer with multiple Destroyers, Loki’s weeks of worry and frustration boiled over.  
“Thor!” he yelled. “You might have been killed! Can I not leave you alone for a few weeks? What in Hel were you thinking?”

“That’s exactly what I thought!” Stark tossed off a grin of pure satisfaction. “Lucky for him I showed up just before he got turned to a grease spot on the ground.”

“I thought he was another of Doom’s mechanical men,” Thor told his avid listeners, “Until he attacked one just before it struck me with a stream of fire!”

“After which he stupidly kept running towards the compound,” Tony complained, “Leaving me fighting three giant robots.”

“Even for you, my prince, that seems a bit rash,” Fandral commented, hesitantly. “After all, you did not have your powers, did you?”

“What did you think you were going to do?” Loki demanded, irately. “Challenge their leader to single combat? Throw rocks at them?”

Thor’s smile was a solemn, serious one, befitting a king, as he replied, “I thought I could not allow Jane to come to harm, nor allow Mjölnir to be used as a weapon against this world, and I thought that if I should be killed, Father would retrieve it to his Vault to await someone more worthy.” He let a hand fall on Loki’s shoulder. “Possibly you.” 

There was a long moment of silence as they all contemplated this. 

Loki struggled to draw breath against the sudden heaviness in his chest where his lungs had been, and his complaint came out half-strangled, “Thor, you idiot. What would I do with your fool hammer?”

“That was when it came to me,” Thor said, softly. “When I cared more about it being used to protect than I cared about whether I was the one using it, Mjölnir came back to my hand, along with my power.”

Stark opined, “It was quite the show. Thunder and lightening, very flashy. I have to admit I was a little envious. All I have is very loud rock and roll.”

“It gave Barton and me a chance to sneak in,” Natasha nodded. “Between him and Iron Man, we could have probably stampeded a herd of elephants through there and not been noticed, but we did get almost all the hostages out. Everyone except Doctor Foster, who was being held by Doom himself.”

Barton spread his hands. “He’d figured out she must be important to Thor. I could have put an arrow into him, but our intel says it takes more than that to take him down.”

“Between Thor and me, we made short work of the big guys, and the smaller ‘bots were no challenge at all.” Tony bragged. “We were awesome.”

“Just as we slew the last of them, the sorcerer came himself, holding Jane before him and wielding magic,” Thor went on. “He had a fearsome appearance, cowled and armored, with his face covered by a metal mask. He flung a spell at the Man of Iron that caused him to fall from the sky, then turned to me, and promised to exchange Jane for Mjölnir.”

“What did you do?” Hogun asked, a bit wide-eyed.

“I agreed,” Thor smiled and patted Mjölnir where it hung from his belt. “I walked very slowly up to him, as he requested, and when he reached for Mjölnir, I handed it to him.”

Stark, Natasha and Barton were all very amused at the memory, it seemed. 

Loki was the first of the Asgardians to realize what the actual result of Thor’s handing over his hammer to someone unworthy. Even if that someone was a sorcerer.

“Did it break his foot when it landed?” he asked, matching Thor’s grin. 

“No, but he did not let go soon enough to avoid falling to his knees,” Jane was smiling too, now. “Thor grabbed me and pulled me out of reach.”

“That gave me and Barton the opportunity to open fire,” Natasha said. “I put two full clips in him and Barton put an exploding arrow between his shoulder blades.”

“Then I retrieved my hammer, and struck off his head,” Thor finished.

This elicited a round of cheers and applause from Thor’s friends, but Loki was confused.

“From what you said before, he is still a threat,” Loki pointed out. “He survived being beheaded?”

“It wasn’t him,” Coulson enlightened him.

“It never fucking is,” Barton sighed. “It was just a Doombot.”

Sif looked from the agents to Thor for an explanation. “A what?”

“A double, like Loki’s illusions,” Thor replied, “Only mechanical, like the other robots.”

“So he escaped,” Fandral nodded.

“If he was ever even there,” Barton answered.

“Clever. It sounds as if this Doom has learned to make your science enhance his magical abilities, somehow.” Loki thought he absolutely would have to look the man up, someday.

Coulson’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, then tucked it back in his pocket before getting to his feet. “Okay, folks, story time’s over. The Director wants to see us now.”

Everyone rose to follow, finishing last swallows of coffee and juice and retrieving jackets and weapons that had been laid aside during the meal. 

Loki wanted a moment alone with Thor, but his brother was already leaving, laughing and joking as always with Sif and the Warriors Three. It could wait, he decided, but not too long. If they could get back to Asgard, taking on Malekith would be dangerous, and Loki very much needed to tell Thor some things before that. Just in case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Doom has tried to take Mjölnir more than once, based on my sketchy research, so I thought he was a perfect substitute villain.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Director Fury's big meeting, where Thor and Loki tell everyone of the threat to Asgard, and they discuss how to get home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, an update!

The mood had turned sober as they all took seats around the same long table that Fury had used for the previous meeting. Jane and Erik opened notebooks and prepared to take notes. Stark continued to play with his phone. Everyone else simply sat waiting, either patiently or restlessly fidgeting. 

Loki imitated a calm that he did not feel, and folded his hands on the table in front of him. He had a sudden impulse to freeze all the water in the scattered pitchers and tumblers, thinking that small prank might lighten the mood, but he was a guest here, and needed the mortal’s help. Best not to risk giving offense. He settled for only freezing Thor’s, and waiting for him to drink.

“All right, people. Let’s get started.” The Director waited until he had everyone’s undivided attention.  
“As all of you are aware, Thor Odinson and company are not from Earth, and SHIELD has made a commitment to help them get back home. Last night, he got a message from home that would seem to indicate that time is of the essence.”

Fury turned to Thor. “Can you explain the situation for us?”

Thor nodded, rising to his feet. “Last night, as we journeyed here from the place where my brother and friends arrived on this realm, we were met by a Ljósálfar, telling us that his own people were threatened, and that Asgard had been foully ensorcelled. It is urgent that we return with all haste.”

“Ensorcelled?” Barton looked highly dubious. 

Loki couldn’t fathom what cause he had to disbelieve, if the man had previously battled enchanted mechanical giants. If it had been him telling the story, perhaps, but Thor was nothing if not painfully honest.

“Who are these yos-alfar?” Darcy wanted to know.

“The light elves,” Thor replied. “Inhabitants of Alfheim.”

Darcy pursed her lips, thinking. “So the elves are in danger?”

“Alfheim has long been our ally, but they are unwilling or unable to come to Asgard’s defense while their own realm is in danger. The rulers of Alfheim sent a group to find us and bring us back, but only one made it through, gravely injured.”

“He brought word that all of Asgard, save perhaps my mother, have been cast into an unnatural sleep by Malekith the Accursed, Erlking of Svartalfheim, who bids to overthrow the rule of Asgard and conquer all the realms.”

Darcy asked, “So this Malekith is a wizard?”

“He is a powerful sorcerer,” Thor replied gravely. “He leads a faction of the dark elves.”

“Okay, does anyone else feel like we’ve all been suddenly transported into a Peter Jackson movie?” Tony asked.

Fury’s flat, one-eyed stare of disapproval didn’t appear to dim Stark’s spirits in the least.  
“According to Thor, we are one of the worlds slated for conquest, and Thor’s father has a collection of super weapons. If this guy gets his hands on them, none of the supposedly more advanced people of the galaxy are up to defeating him.”

Stark rolled his eyes. “Let me guess: the One Ring? Is this the Fellowship meeting?”

“I do not know of this ring,” Thor shrugged his massive shoulders uneasily. “Loki is a scholar of magic and magical items. He can tell you more than I can.”

Loki picked his words carefully; the mortals needed to believe in the gravity of the threat, but the contents of Odin’s Vault were not meant to be common knowledge.  
“The All-Father has spent millennia gathering and guarding powerful artifacts. I will not go into detail about how many, or what dangers they present, but some of them, in the hands of Malekith, could wreak death and havoc on a scale unknown to your world.”

“We have seen some serious death and havoc,” Stark argued. “I’ve even been responsible for entirely too much of it. Come on, you’re going to have to stop being so cagey.”

Thor attempted to help explain. “There is the Casket of Ancient Winters, taken from Jotunheim after they invaded your world a thousand years hence. It has the power to cover your world in ice and snow.”

“The entire planet?” Selvig’s voice shook.

Loki nodded, reluctantly. He wished Thor had chosen to tell them about one of the other relics. He didn’t want the mortals to start distrusting him for being Jotun.

“Which would be bad,” Stark admitted. “Is that what this Duke of Earl guy is after?”

“Erlking,” Sif corrected.

“Whatever,” Stark waved this off. “What do you think he’s after? It sounds like this Casket would only make him king of the frozen wasteland, so that’s probably not it.”

Thor suggested, “Maybe he is after the Gaunt-.” 

Loki cut him off sharply. “There are many dangerous items, but it isn’t necessary for you to know specifics.”

“It’s kind of hard to come up with defenses without knowing what the weapons are,” Tony countered.

“If we can prevent the items from being stolen, you will not need to defend against them,” Loki argued.

“I just don’t like working with people who keep secrets from me. Especially when it comes to weapons.”

“If you need to know, I will tell you, but not until then.”

Fury raised his voice to cut off further argument. “You mentioned another threat last night. This Bifrost thing. You said it could destroy worlds.”

“The Einstein-Rosen Bridge?” Jane looked to Thor. “The bridge that lets you travel between worlds?”

Coulson asked, “How is that a weapon?”

“The Bifrost creates a sort of tunnel in space, to allow one to move almost instantly from Asgard to any other place. The portal opens for only an instant, and is always aimed well away from anything else,” Loki explained.

Jane Foster seemed to be following this. “Because it would continue making a tunnel through space, otherwise. Through the Earth?”

“Or anything else in its path, yes.”

“So it’s your basic cosmic disintegration ray.” Stark drummed his fingers on the table.

Thor finally reached for the glass in front of him, raised it, then lowered it, looking into it in bafflement when nothing came out. 

Loki assumed an expression of complete innocence as his brother turned to look suspiciously at him.

“Do you understand enough about the Bifrost to help us build one?” Erik asked Loki, hopefully.

“I am not sure.” Loki massaged around his horns, trying to think. “Even if I did, it would take years. Right now our best chance is for the Ljósálfar to recover enough to open the Ways for us.”

“We’re not sure he’s going to recover at all,” Coulson admitted. “He’s in critical condition, and our medics aren’t sure there is much they can do.”

Loki snarled in sheer frustration. To have come all this way for Thor and still be helpless to get back to where they were needed!  
“If I could just use my own magic, I could take us through the Ways myself!”

Sif frowned, and the Warriors all looked glum. The Midgardians looked variously uncomprehending, skeptical or sympathetic. 

Thor jostled his shoulder. “You depend too much on magic, brother.”

“I do not!” Loki denied hotly.

“You use your magic at least as often as I use my hammer,” his brother pointed out.

“That is not the same!” Belatedly, Loki decided this was Thor’s way of getting back at him for freezing his drink.

Jane looked up from her notebook. “Maybe we can open these Ways by some other means? Or a portal like the one that brought you here from Jotunheim?”

Loki considered the idea, trying not to despair. “It would require a great deal of energy.”

“We can provide that,” Stark promised, confidently. “What else?”

“I don’t know.” Loki sighed. “Some of the artifacts that the All-Father keeps guarded can be used to create portals of various types. The Bifrost itself was built with the aid of the Tesseract, but I don’t know that much about how they work.”

“The Tesseract?” Erik Selvig sat up, suddenly alert. “Is it a sort of blue cube, about the length of my hand?”

“You mean this?” Tony turned his phone around so they could all see the small screen displaying a photo of a blue, glowing cube housed in some type of bracket.

Loki sat up from his previous dejected slump. His heart had started pounding too fast, and a rime of ice had spread across the table in front of him.  
“I don’t believe it,” he breathed. “You have the Tesseract?”

A small muscle twitched in Nick Fury’s jaw-the only sign of his displeasure as he looked at Selvig, then at Stark. Calmly, he turned to Loki and answered, “Yes, we do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta-dah! You guys pretty much guessed this, right?


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Decisions are made concerning the Tesseract. Also, Loki gets Thor's attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear readers, please read notes at the bottom if you are interested in helping me shape the next part of the story. Don't read if it might spoil anything for you to know what might happen.

Rising to his feet, Thor reverted to his old arrogance, proclaiming, “The Tesseract belongs in Asgard.”

“That’s debatable,” Fury replied evenly. “I think we have a good case for it belonging to us.”

“Thor-” Loki began, warningly.

His brother ignored him, as usual. “It belongs to the All-Father. It is well-known throughout the Nine Realms.”

“Well, it isn’t well-known by this realm. It’s been in SHIELD’s possession for close to fifty years,” the Director argued.

Loki tried again, more urgently. “Thor-”

“If my father placed it on Midgard, it was to hide it from enemies, not allow it to be used by-”

Forming a handful of soft, wet snow, Loki packed it loosely into a ball and hurled it into his brother’s pompous face. It smacked high on one cheek and exploded, clinging in clumps to his hair and beard.

For an instant, there was silence, then Darcy and Jane broke into giggles. Sif looked offended.

Filled with wrath, Thor stared at Loki, who had stood to face him. “You dare to-” 

“Listen to me!” Loki snapped, priming a second snowball and hoisting it threateningly.

Thor fingered his hammer, speaking through clenched teeth, “Did you wish to say something?”

“Yes.” Loki dispersed the snow back into the air. “Director, may I speak to my brother in private for a moment?”

“Of course.” Fury gestured towards the door. “There’s a room across the hall that should be empty.”

Loki led the way, and Thor stomped after him, radiating temper and wiping away melting snow.

The guards outside unlocked the door opposite the meeting room and let them go though, shutting it behind them. It also seemed to be a meeting room, though with a much smaller, plainer table and chairs, and a large mirror taking up most of one wall.

Neither Thor or Loki moved to sit.

“What was so important that you needed to make a fool of me in front of everyone?” Thor demanded, furiously.

“I wanted to shut you up before you ruined our chances of getting home before Asgard falls,” Loki snarled, equally angry. “We need the Tesseract, and they are not going to let us anywhere near it if they think we are going to try to steal it from them!”

“It would not be stealing. It belongs to Father!”

“Don’t you think Father knows they have it? Heimdall must have seen it, after all. He could have retrieved it before now if he wished. We do not know that they aren’t meant to have it.”

“Why would the All-Father want mortals to have such a powerful artifact?”

“I don’t know that he does,” Loki admitted. “But if we want the mortals to aid us, I do not think it is a good idea to claim possession of it ourselves. Besides, until Malekith is defeated, it is safer here than Asgard.”

Thor frowned at this unassailable fact. “Do not throw snow at me again,” he rumbled.

Loki crossed his arms. “Do not ignore me, then.”

They locked gazes, neither wishing to be the first to look away.

“Fine,” Thor grated. “I will try to listen more.”

“Then I won’t need to throw snow,” Loki smiled, waggling his fingers to make ice crystals dance in the air. “I could always shut you up as I did Sif, on Jotunheim.”

Thor fingered his hammer again, menacingly. “I am beginning to think you are enjoying being a frost giant.”

“Should I not?” Loki scowled. “It is what I am, after all.”

“Hmm. Well.” Thor removed his hand from Mjölnir and rolled his shoulders to release some tension. “Perhaps we should not keep the others waiting.”

There was a great deal Loki wished to say, but Thor was right, and it was not the right time. He sighed, “Probably not.”

“I cannot agree that the Tesseract belongs to Midgard,” Thor warned him.

“Of course not.” Loki pulled out a chair and sat, giving the problem some thought. “The mortals clearly know it is of great value. You should offer something in its place, if it turns out that Father wants it back.”

Pulling out the other chair, Thor leaned across the sturdy table. Loki noticed there was a metal ring embedded in the surface and wondered what the purpose of it might be.

“Like what?” Thor wanted to know. “Is that not for Father to decide for himself?”

“You will be king someday. You have the authority to make the offer yourself.”

“But what should I offer? I know little of Midgard’s needs.”

“I think it’s better that you not be specific. After all, we don’t know that Father will want the Tesseract back. Just promise we will not take it without permission, and say something like, you are sure the All-Father would grant Midgard a gift of equal value, should it be needful that it be returned to Asgard.”

“That sounds reasonable,” Thor nodded. “Are we ready to go back?”

“Yes. I think so.”

When they rejoined Fury and the others, Loki noticed that Jane, Darcy and Erik all looked oddly guilty, and Stark looked entirely too self-satisfied about something. 

Before Thor could even make his offer, Fury said, “We have decided to grant you and your brother access to the Tesseract facility, so long as you follow SHIELD’s orders while you’re on the premises. Agreed?”

“You have my word,” Thor replied, looking flummoxed.

Loki narrowed his eyes, wondering what had been happening while he and Thor were out. “I agree, with the condition that I be allowed to change my mind if the situation should become hazardous.”

Fury didn’t look pleased. “Hazardous in what way?”

“The Tesseract is a dangerous relic. I reserve the right not to take orders that will put me or Thor in harm’s way.”

“How dangerous?” Erik asked, looking concerned.

“Very,” Loki said, meaning it.

Erik started to ask something else, but Fury spoke first.  
“All right. But if you refuse to obey an order, you’d better be able to show me a good reason.”

Smiling slightly, Loki nodded. “Very well. I agree to your terms.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case I didn't get it across, Fury sent Loki and Thor into an interrogation room for their chat. It was, of course, being monitored, and half the group watched their argument on Fury's computer, while the other half watched it on Stark's phone.
> 
> ****possible spoilery bit******
> 
>  
> 
> I have a decision to make in the next chapter. I thought of a way to work Bruce/Hulk into the story, and I really want to, but it isn't really necessary to the overall plot, and it will take several extra chapters before we get back to Asgard. I don't want to derail the story. What do you guys think?


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fury and Selvig take Loki and Thor to see the Tesseract, where Loki takes steps to speed things up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! I finally got a few nights of sleep in a row and a few hours to write. Enjoy!
> 
> Kudos and comments are much appreciated!

As it happened, Doctor Selvig had recently been put in charge of research on the Tesseract, so he was the one who led Loki and Thor into the vast underground chamber that housed it, trailed by Director Fury, and Agents Coulson, Hill and Barton.

“Here she is,” Selvig announced, waving towards the shining blue cube as soon as they came within sight of it. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

The note of pride and affection in the scientist’s voice, not to mention his choice of pronoun, caused Loki to narrow his eyes at the mortal, but he only replied “It is,” before turning to study what had once been the prize of the All-Father’s treasures.

“What is it you wish to do with it?” Thor asked, as they all came to a halt in the midst of the array of machines surrounding the Tesseract and its housing bracket.

It was Fury who replied, “We believe that the Tesseract has the potential to provide clean, unlimited energy.”

“How?” Thor was demonstrating an unusual level of curiosity today. 

Loki was content to let his brother do the talking for once, while he closed his eyes and let his other senses focus. Though his magic was bound, his senses were not. The Tesseract glowed behind his eyelids, and whispered faint, far-off music into his mind.

“By harnessing energy from space,” Selvig answered Thor.

“You seek to draw power from the stars?”

“Not the stars, exactly,” Selvig said. “We are hoping to tap into what we call ‘dark energy.’” 

This was followed by another confusing explanation concerning gravity, negative pressure, and the expansion of the universe, intriguing and perplexing enough to drag Loki’s attention away from his reverie. Opening his eyes, he gave Selvig his full attention, and after a time, Loki had a glimmer of comprehension as to what the humans were attempting. 

“You are attempting to open a portal to the void between the stars?” Loki asked, “How close are you to being ready?”

“Theoretically we should be able to open a portal, if we can activate the Tesseract in the first place,” Selvig said. “But we aren’t ready to begin testing. My calculations are far from complete.”

“What does it actually do?” Thor took two long strides closer to the cube, squinting slightly against its shine.

“That’s one of the things we’ve been trying to find out,” Selvig admitted, shrugging. “We know from captured Hydra research that it can create portals, and extremely dangerous weapons.”

“It does whatever you desire of it,” Loki explained. “Though not always as you would prefer.”

“Explain,” Director Fury ordered, turning capture Loki with his one good eye.

Nervously smoothing and tugging at the unfamiliar clothing that SHIELD had gifted him, Loki spoke slowly. “According to my studies, the Tesseract either is, or contains, or is a conduit to a vastly powerful alien entity.”

The Director’s eyebrows flicked up. “You think it’s alive?” 

“I think it has awareness and intelligence. I don’t know about ‘alive’”. 

“And it grants wishes?” Fury did not quite scoff. “Like a some kind of inter-dimensional genie?”

“I have no idea what you just said." Loki sighed. "The Tesseract grants wishes, but not always in a way you would want. It also has desires of its own, which are not necessarily comprehensible to us.”

“So how do we use it? We just ask it for what we want?” 

“In a sense,” Loki granted. “We need to wake it up first.”

“Wake it up how?”

“Ordinarily, I would use magic to get its attention. Since that isn’t an option, I think we should use Mjölnir.”

Thor brightened, brandishing his hammer. “You wish me to strike it?” 

“No!” Loki was quick to quash this. “I wish you to tap it, very, very gently.”

“You think the resonance of Thor’s hammer will activate the Tesseract?” Erik all but quivered with excitement.

Now Thor was striding forward, and Erik and several other scientists trailed after him, clearly hoping to see something interesting.

Fury looked from Loki to Thor and back, clearly annoyed. “Thor!” he called out. “Hold up!”

Thor halted, Mjölnir raised in easy reach of the cube. “Yes, Director?”

“How dangerous is this little experiment?” Fury demanded of Loki.

“I have no idea, but there is no way to use it without waking it, and Thor and I do not have time to wait.” Loki didn’t take his eyes off Nick Fury, but he raised his voice and said, “Thor, do it!”

Thor did. The sound of the great hammer lightly striking the smooth surface of the Tesseract was little more than a barely audible ‘clink’.

For several heartbeats, nothing happened, except for the growing anger on Fury’s face.

Then the glow of the cube increased, and began to pulse, throwing off a showing of sparks that caused Thor to hastily step back. A low hum filled the room, competing with the whine and chirping of the lab equipment.

Selvig dashed to a station and began calling up screen after screen of data.

Fury growled at Selvig, “Talk to me, Doctor! Is there anything we know for certain?”

The scientist was moving from console to console, taking readings, before going to stare at the hypnotic flashes of blue-white light.

“The Tesseract is active, and she’s misbehaving,” Selvig answered, attempting to keep a smile off his face and failing. It made him appear slightly manic.

“Is that supposed to be funny?” Fury strode forward to look for himself.

Fury and Selvig and ignored Thor, but the other researchers kept streaming around him like the obstacle he was, and eventually he moved back to stand next to Loki, out of their way.

“Is this a good thing, brother?” he inquired, bouncing on the balls of his feet, fingering Mjölnir’s handle, eager as ever for whatever came.

“Too soon to tell.” Loki continued to watch the scene unfold.

Somewhere across the room, an older woman with short, blond hair and glasses yelled, “I am reading an energy spike!”

People scrambled, shouted, pushed buttons and pulled levers. None of it had the slightest effect, as far as Loki could see.

Fury moved to join Selvig, “I assume you pulled the plug?”

“She’s an energy source!” Selvig yelled back. “We turn it off, she turns it back on again! If she reaches peak levels-” His earlier ebullient mood had evaporated, replaced by anxiety.

As if he could bring order to chaos through sheer willpower, Fury drawled, “We prepared for this, Doctor. Harnessing energy from space.”

Selvig’s tone was now grim. “We don’t have the harness.” More calmly, he went on, “She’s throwing off interference, radiation. Nothing harmful, just low levels of gama radiation.”

Director Fury looked far from reassured. “That can be harmful.”

“Sir,” Coulson spoke up, “Should I begin evac? It will take at least an hour to clear the campus.”

Acknowledging the wisdom of this, Fury nodded tersely. “Get on it, Agent Coulson, and make it half an hour.”

Nodding back, Coulson peeled off and headed for the elevator, already issuing a stream of orders through his phone.

“Sir, evacuation may be futile,” Agent Hill told her commander.

“We should tell them to go back to sleep?” the man responded, sarcastically.

Ignoring the snarl, she explained, “If we can’t control the Tesseract’s energy, there may not be a minimum safe distance.”

Fury simply changed the subject. “I need you to make sure the Phase II prototypes are shipped out.”

Hill objected, “Sir, is that really a priority right now?”

“Until such time as the world ends, we will behave as if it intends to spin on,” Fury told her. “Clear out the tech below. Every piece of Phase II on the truck and gone.”

Hill didn’t like it, but she didn’t argue. “Yes, Sir.” She moved off, collecting two gun-wielding guards to aid her.

This was all very interesting, if none of Loki’s concern. He continued to watch the Tesseract, waiting. He wasn’t sure what it was doing, or if it would turn out to be dangerous, but he was getting a rather bad feeling about it.

Someone yelled, “It’s spiking again!” and the hum increased in pitch and volume, burrowing down into Loki’s teeth and bones, making everything vibrate. The flashes of light grew brighter, blinding in their intensity.

There was a low ‘bang’ that shook the building, followed by a second, even more powerful pulse, causing people to stagger and look up and around in rising alarm. 

Bursts of brilliance shot from the Tesseract, then swirled together to form a spinning vortex above its surface.

“That probably isn’t good,” Loki told Thor, raising his voice to be heard above the din.

“Should I strike it again?” Thor’s natural speaking voice had no trouble being heard, of course.

“No!” The Norns only knew how it might respond to a perceived attack, even if all his reading on the Tesseract had claimed it to be indestructable.

A beam of light shot out of the Tesseract, crossing the room but impossibly stopping before it reached the far wall. At the end of the light, a portal began opening, showing a hazy glimpse of the blackness between the stars.

At last, Loki understood what was happening. He felt like an idiot for not realizing sooner, but hopefully it was not too late. Rushing to Erik Selvig, Loki snatched him around the waist and propelled him to stand in front of the Tesseract, just to one side of the beam. He caught the mortal’s wrist just as the man started to struggle in surprise.

“Put your hand on the Tesseract!” he ordered Selvig, ignoring Fury and Thor’s demands that he stop and explain, as well as Agent Barton suddenly at his side looking rather dangerous.

“What?” Selvig just looked confused.

“Put your hand on her, and want with everything that’s in you for the portal not to open,” Loki snapped, pressing the man’s palm towards the surface of the cube. 

“It’s doing what it thinks you want!” Loki pitched his voice to be heard by Thor and Fury, hoping to forestall interference. “You need to want it NOT to open the portal, RIGHT NOW!”

Understanding dawned in Selvig’s face, and he ceased resisting and laid his hand on the Tesseract’s face.

Seeing another hand reaching for it out of the corner of his eye, Loki released Selvig just in time to prevent Barton from attempting to help.

“You have heart, Agent Barton,” Loki allowed his respect to color his words as he pushed the man backwards. Barton was strong, but Loki was stronger, and familiar with the kind of tricks the man attempted to break his hold. “But I think perhaps you should keep it to yourself.”

Barton stopped fighting, staring over Loki’s shoulder, so Loki turned, releasing him. Selvig had stiffened, unmoving, perhaps not even breathing. Blue fire crawled up his arm, under his skin. His wide, awestruck gaze went black from lid to lid, then lightened to a swirling, glowing blue.

The beam continued its work, and the portal grew larger, and darker. Stars could now be seen, faintly, around the edges. The building continued to shake, and here and there things crashed to the floor. Powdery dust rained from above, and Loki glance up to see that a pool of the same blue light had formed in the vaulting dome above them, and that it seemed to be dissolving it. He wasn’t entirely sure it wasn’t eating away at the fabric of reality itself.

“You are certain I should not hit it now?” Thor’s voice brought Loki out of his horrified trance. 

“Doctor Selvig!” he all but screamed, desperate to get through to the man and the entity that had taken him. “Speak to her! Tell her not yet! Not now!”

“Not yet,” Selvig echoed, slowly, then nodded. “Not yet.”

As suddenly as it had started, he beam stopped. The portal shrank and closed, like a soap bubble bursting. Loki dared a peek at the ceiling. No blue glow. No giant hole eaten away. Whooshing out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding, he allowed his body to relax, a grin of triumph creeping over his face.

Thor mirrored his relief, clapping him on the back. “Excellent work, brother!”

Director Fury didn’t seem nearly as pleased, however. “Before you get too busy congratulating yourselves on nearly wrecking my facility and maybe killing god knows how many people, would you mind explaining what just happened?”

Selvig lowered his hand and turned, his eyes still filled with an alien light. “She wants to show us something!” he exclaimed reverently. “It’s more than just knowledge! It’s truth!”

It had momentarily attracted Fury’s attention, but now that regard landed on Loki again like a spear thrust. He ground out. “You had damned-well better know how to fix that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As much as I adore Bruce/Hulk, after much consideration, I've decided to wait and use him in my next story. I hope you guys won't be too disappointed!


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fury gets some answers from a reluctant Loki, and Thor and Loki have a private talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inching towards the ending now. I am starting to believe I'm actually going to get this fic done before 2014.
> 
> Stayed up late to finish this chapter, so I hope it makes as much sense to you guys as I think it does..

“Fix what?” Loki almost took a step back from the menace coming off Director Fury. “Doctor Selvig?” 

“My mind-controlled head of research, yes.” The SHIELD leader was edging into sarcasm.

Studying Jane’s mentor more closely, Thor said, “The Director is right, brother. We must free Erik from this spell, now that the danger is past.”

Now Loki did take a step back. “No, we need him this way, to communicate with the Tesseract.”

“But-” Uncertainty furrowed Thor’s brow.

Fury stared intently at Loki, suspicion hardening his face. Turning to the few shell-shocked lab employees who had remained, he ordered them to shut down and secure their equipment and follow their evacuation procedures. He also called Coulson and Hill and told them that while the immediate threat seemed contained, they were to continue removing tech and personnel. 

“You don’t think the danger is over? We’d like to start getting new data.” Doctor Stilson, the NASA liason had to clear her throat several times as she spoke, casting nervous little glances between the Tesseract and Doctor Selvig, who was just standing there in front of it, swaying slightly as if to a tune only he could hear.

“Better safe than sorry, Doctor,” Fury said sternly. “We’ll let you know when you can come back.”

Some of the lab workers were eager to get out, clearly shaken by their close call, and some were reluctant to leave, either curious or concerned for their boss, but they all went.

 

Once they had gone, Fury resumed his line of interrogation. “Did you know that would happen when you forced him into contact with the cube?”

“No, of course not,” Loki crossed his arms, then uncrossed them when he realized it looked defensive. It wasn’t exactly a lie.

“You didn’t have any idea? You were pretty quick to keep Agent Barton from touching it,” Fury accused flatly.

“Well, not for certain.” Loki steeled himself against the disapproving looks he was getting from Fury, Barton and Thor.  
“He was already partly under its influence. That’s why it tried to give him what he’d been working on.”

“She is showing me so much,” Selvig murmured, smiling dreamily. The faintly pulsing shine in his eyes was unnerving. “So much.”

“This is not acceptable,” Fury took a long step closer to Loki. “Also, I have a good mind to shoot your ass. Did you or did you not give me your word to follow my orders while you were here?”

“I only did what you have been trying to do,” Loki retorted. “It was certain to wake sooner or later, what with your insistent poking at it. Would you prefer it had happened when I was not present to help you stop it?”

“I would prefer that you clear it with me before you do something that nearly blows us all up,” Fury said.

“We would not have blown up,” Loki argued, then added in a petulant undertone, “The roof would have caved in, and the portal would have imploded.”

It was really rather impressive how much annoyance Fury could express with a simple tilt of his head.  
“Taking how much of the planet with it?”

“You were planning on testing it,” Loki pointed out. “I was helping.”

“Next time you want to help, you ask first.”

Loki drew in a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “Yes, of course, Director Fury. Forgive me. I am very worried about our parents, and it has made me impatient.”

His ploy for sympathy left Fury unmoved, but a quick glance showed it helped his case with Thor. 

“I don’t care why you did it. Don’t do it again, or I WILL shoot your ass.” Fury turned to study Selvig. “As much as I would like a way to communicate with the Tesseract, if that is what is happening here, I need to know what the effects are going to be on Doctor Selvig before I give this the green light.”

“Green light?” Loki questioned.

“The go-ahead,” Fury clarified.

“Brother, Erik is my friend,” Thor broke in. “I do not think we should do this.”

“We do not know that it is harming him.”

“Brother-”

“We should at least ask.” He turned his friendliest expression on the scientist and asked, “Doctor Selvig, how do you feel?”

“I feel connected to the cosmos. It’s everything I’ve ever dreamed,” the scientist told them. “She has so much to teach us.”

“See? He’s fine,” Loki gave Thor a bright smile, and garnered a scowl in response.

“Doctor Selvig,” Loki did not quite plead, “Can the Tesseract help us create a safe portal to Asgard? Quickly?”

Selvig’s face fell. “She does not want to go back to Asgard now. She wants to stay here.”

The expression on Thor’s face was utterly priceless, but sadly Loki didn’t have time to savor it.

“That’s fine, Doctor,” Loki promised hurriedly. “She doesn’t have to go. We don’t wish for her to go. But can she help you send US back there?”

“Yes, of course,” Selvig’s smile returned, still vague and blissful. “I will get started on that right away.”

“Wait just a minute, Doctor,” Fury countermanded. He glowered at Loki. “You might call the shots where you come from, but this is still SHIELD’s project, and Doctor Selvig is my responsibility. As much as I would like you off my damned planet as soon as possible, having that cube fry his highly educated brain is not acceptable.”

“Please, Loki,” Thor urged, turning pleading puppy eyes on him. “Erik has been a good friend, and Jane would be most distressed if he were harmed.”

“He is just one man!” Loki was not surprised at Thor, but he had thought the Director at least would see the bigger picture. He found himself pacing, needing to move, even if it wasn’t in the direction he most wished to go. “If we do not reach Asgard in time to defeat Malekith, untold millions could die!”

“Do you or do you not know how to fix it?” Fury insisted. “If you want our help, I need to know I can trust you not to treat my people as disposable.”

“Could we not let him build the portal first?” Loki wheedled, hopefully. “You seem to have a great deal of the work already done; I’m certain it would not take long.”

Fury just looked at him. It was amazingly similar to a look that Frigga might give him, which was even more perturbing coming from a man with an eyepatch.

“Write up plans, at least?” 

“Loki, it would not be honorable to win a victory by betraying a friend,” Thor reproved.

Throwing up his hands in frustration, Loki hissed, “Unconsciousness should break the connection.”

“Thank you for your cooperation. Agent Barton is going to escort both of you back to the surface now, where you will wait and not do ANYTHING. I will join you when I get this mess under control.”

Barton stepped forward and indicated that they should go first.

They went.

No one spoke until they were outdoors, leaning against the black SUV that had brought them from the airport. 

Barton open the passenger side door and hunted around in the glove box, middle compartment and under the seat, until he came up with a pint of bourbon. He unscrewed the cap, took a swallow and offered it to Thor first, and then Loki.

The taste was overly sweet, more rot than fermentation to Loki’s palette, but it was a welcome distraction, and kindly offered, so he accepted a second swig when it was offered.

“Thanks for stopping me, in there,” Barton said, taking back the bottle.

Unexpectedly, Thor chuckled. “Loki has had a lot of experience keeping his companions from doing reckless things.”

“Not as often as I’d have liked,” Loki smiled halfheartedly at Thor. “But in all honesty, I’ve done a few idiotic things myself lately, brother.”

“So I’ve heard,” Thor agreed, as he took the bottle and swallowed, passing the bottle over to Loki again.

“From Sif, no doubt,” Loki said sourly.

“It doesn’t matter now,” Thor informed him. “Finish that.”

Sensing that the brothers needed some privacy, Barton politely withdrew to a spot where he could watch them but probably not overhear.

Tossing back the last mouthful, Loki grimaced, put the bottle down and squared his shoulders.  
“Thor, I am sorry. For ruining your coronation. For getting you banished. All of it.”

“I am sorry too, Loki,” Thor replied, letting Mjölnir thud heavily to the pavement at his feet. “For a great many things. Have you- Do you truly have to go back and stay on Jotunheim?”

“I promised I would. For a year. After everything is settled on Asgard.”

“You don’t have to,” Thor turned his face up, looking at the stars as he spoke. “We could find some other way to make peace.”

“No,” Loki shook his head, then raked a hand through his hair. “I want to go. I want to find out who I am.”

“You’re a prince of Asgard, and my brother,” Thor insisted.

“Yes,” Loki agreed softly. “Whatever else I may become, I will always be that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope Fury swearing doesn't turn you off, Startrekfanwriter! I felt the near catastrophe really called for some strong language!
> 
> I love hearing from you guys! Let me know what you think, or if you spot and glaring errors, etc.


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki expresses his concerns and Tony explains a few things to Loki.

To everyone’s immense relief, Doctor Selvig recovered from his encounter with the Tesseract, badly shaken, but with his mind intact, and with the memory of how to build their portal. 

Tony Stark’s arc reactor technology turned out to be a key component, and this had caused some argument on the location(Tony had wanted to build it on the top of his brand new building in downtown Manhattan). The invaluable Ms. Potts had brought him into line with SHIELD’s insistence on secrecy, and a site was chosen in a remote part of the Nevada desert. 

The speed and efficiency with which the humans worked astonished and gratified Loki. Only three days after waking the Tesseract, the device was nearly complete. He managed to be present throughout much of the construction and testing, asking questions and observing carefully.

Jane Foster and Doctor Selvig both assumed he was merely curious, recognizing in him a kindred thirst for knowledge. Tony Stark, however, turned out to be more perceptive.

Loki entered the flimsy, plastic wrap-walled structure that they had dubbed the ‘Tesseract Chamber’ very late in the evening before the day they planned to start testing, and was startled and displeased to catch sight of the inventor’s legs poking out from beneath the portal platform.

“Stark.” The man didn’t answer at first, so Loki crouched down and poked him. Stark slid out, pulling the small earbuds that played songs from his ears. “What are you doing?”

“Hey,” he greeted Loki. “You’re up late again.”

“As are you, Stark.” Loki repeated his question, “I thought all the work on the portal generator was finished. Is there a problem?”

“No problem.” Tony shrugged. “Just finessing things a little. I thought of a better way to utilize the iridium coupling ring.” 

“But it will be ready to test tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sure. As soon as I tighten a few screws and hook the power back up.”

“Good. Thank you.” Stepping back, Loki wandered around the room, hoping Stark would finish soon and go.

Instead of going back to work, Stark leaned back against the Tesseract housing, watching him.  
“So, have you got some kind of plan that you don’t want Thor to know about?” 

Startled, Loki asked sharply, “What?”

“I mean you’ve been in here at all hours, asking pretty much the same questions I’d ask, if I wanted to try to open a portal all by myself. Except I’m sure I could figure it out without asking. Just saying.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about, Stark.” And if that wasn’t the poorest excuse for a lie he’d told since he was a small child, Loki didn’t know what was.

Tossing his tools down, Stark gave him a disbelieving quirk of lips that didn’t quite add up to a smile. “Yeah, right. I only figured it out because it’s the kind of thing I might do.”

“You would?”

“Oh yeah,” Stark grinned. “I’m the guy who built a flying suit of armor and set out to fight crime and villainy, all on my lonesome.”

“You don’t work for SHIELD?” It was true that Loki had noticed the man didn’t display the same amount of respect for rank or orders that most of the other agents did.

“Sometimes. As a consultant, not one of their agents. I don’t take orders well.”

“I’ve noticed that about you.”

“According to my SHIELD personality profile, I’m ‘volatile, self-obsessed, and don’t play well with others.”

Shrugging, the mortal pulled a bag of dried blueberries from a pocket and started munching a handful. “ I don’t need their money, and I can’t stand to have people who aren’t smarter than me in control of what I do. And practically no one is smarter than I am.”

Conceitedness usually irritated Loki, but it had usually been the bragging of warriors. Someone being not only proud, but outright arrogant about their mental acuity was a sort of a refreshing change.

When Loki made no answer, Stark rambled on, “I won’t tell anyone. Word of honor, hope to die and all that bullshit. I just don’t see your reasoning, though. What’s the deal? Thor and his buddies are all just as hot to get back home as you are. Why are you trying to ditch them?”

“It’s for their own good,” Loki replied, moving back to take a seat in the desk chair nearest Stark. “I am concerned about the spell.”

“The Sleeping Beauty thing?”

“Sleeping beauty?”

“It’s a kid’s story about a sleeping princess, where everybody in the castle sleeps for like a hundred years- Never mind. I’ll have JARVIS read it to you some night at bedtime. What were you saying about the spell?”

“Yes,” Loki shook Stark’s nonsense from his thoughts and explained, “The easiest way for the dark elves to work such a spell is to have it affect only the Aesir. There are a few of the other races on Asgard, but the Aesir are the warriors. With them all asleep, the few remaining would be easy to overcome.”

“What’s this got to do with you wanting to fly solo through the portal?”

“I’m afraid Thor and the others will fall under the spell as soon as they reach Asgard.”

“Oh, I get it. Why don’t you just tell them that?”

“They would insist on going anyway.”

Tony popped more blueberries in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully for a minute. “So your brother’s homies are all as gung ho for a fight as he is?”

“Does gung ho mean eager to the point of stupidity?” 

“Pretty much,” Stark grinned. “So what’s your lone wolf ninja in the night plan to singlehandedly save your magic kingdom?”

“You are very strange, Tony Stark.”

“It’s a good strange, though, right? Anyhow, the plan?”

“I’m going to get close to Malekith, and I’m going to kill him.”

“Not a great plan.”

“You have a better idea?”

“Absolutely. I’m a genius. My first idea is that I come with you, in the suit, along with many people as SHIELD will send with you.”

“What?”

“Listen up, Neytiri, you don’t need to leave your brother and his friends out of this plan. What you need is more backup, to back up your backup.”

“You wish to go with me?” Loki hazarded, turning this idea over in his mind.

“Let me think... Do I want to see a different planet, help out Thor and possibly show him up, and kick bad elf butt... That would be a yes.”

“And you think Director Fury would send his people? I am not sure they would be any use against the Svaltalfar. All of them are strong and fast and have magic, though nowhere near as much as Malekith.”

“You do realize that Barton and Natasha are super secret assassins, right?” Stark inquired. 

More seriously, he went on, “Look, your brother will never forgive you if you leave him behind. Especially if you get killed, and we all end up enslaved or dead. If you let at least a few people come with you, they can help you stash Thor and the Ferocious Four if they hit the dirt.”

He looked searchingly at Loki. “I assume you can’t get in without being noticed?”

Distracted by the idea, Loki shook his head to concede the point.

It truthfully did sound like a slightly less insane plan, but Loki resented the feeling of being manipulated.  
“If I choose to go alone, will you break your word and inform the others of my plan?”

“No. I might if I needed to, of course,” Stark admitted, “But I’m sure Fury’s been listening in.”

Loki’s spun in his chair, looking for a hidden SHIELD director and saw no one. “Where?”

“SHIELD is always watching everything. They have cameras everywhere. I do too. They’re paranoid as hell. I just want to know what’s going on.”

“Cameras?” Loki repeated, thinking of Heimdall’s ever-watchful gaze. Did the mortals have a similar guardian?

Stark held out his phone, fiddled with it a moment, then handed it to Loki, showing him a tiny image of himself looking up at himself in bewilderment.

“Moving pictures, with sound. Surveillance cameras,” he pointed up at four tiny devices in each corner of the room. “Smile, you’re on Candid Camera.”

Recognizing defeat, Loki leaned back in his chair, drumming his fingers on the armrests. “You took the machine apart to keep me from using it tonight. This was all a ruse to get me to reveal my plan, wasn’t it?”

“Pretty much,” Stark said, unabashed. “But like I said, it wasn’t a great plan.”

“You are a quite the deceiver, Stark,” Loki smiled slowly. “I could learn to like you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for reading, and for your comments and kudos.
> 
> We are picking up some steam now. Isn't it great? I see you shiver, with antici-----------------pation!


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fun with War Councils! or Plans on getting to Asgard. I suck at summaries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three chapters in less than a week! I've been on a roll. Keep your fingers crossed that I can keep up the momentum, people.

Their temporary SHIELD facility did not have a large meeting room or cafeteria, so everyone from Asgard, Tony Stark and all the SHIELD agents involved were crowded into the small break room where the scientists took their meals, waiting for Nick Fury to join them.

Loki had tried unsuccessfully to get a seat somewhere besides next to his brother, but the small room and Thor’s persistence defeated this plan.

“I cannot believe you tried to leave me behind,” Thor muttered resentfully.

Staring straight ahead, Loki said, “Please forgive me for not wanting to put you in danger. Whatever was I thinking?”

“You could have told me you were concerned about the spell!”

Incredulous, Loki turned to face his brother. “You wouldn’t have listened! You never listen!”

“Of course I listen!” Thor protested, looking genuinely confused at this complaint.

“No, you don’t!” Loki’s voice rose to nearly a shout. “I say ‘Thor, you can’t just charge a sea serpent head on’ or I say ‘Thor, maybe you shouldn’t flirt with the princess of Muspelheim’, or ‘Thor, going to Jotunheim is madness!’ and all you ever say is ‘Haha, brother, you worry too much!”

“You do worry too much! We survived all those things just fine!”

“You nearly started a war with Jotunheim, Thor! And this time I do not have my magic! I won’t be able to help you if things go wrong!”

“As entertaining as this little family drama is,” Nick Fury’s words overrode their argument as he strode into the room, “I’d like to get on with planning our assault.” 

Settling into a relaxed pose in the seat reserved for him, Fury began by asking Loki, “You are sure there is no way to get into Asgard undetected?”

“I’m sure. The energy signature of the portal will be very noticeable for quite a distance to any magic user.”

“I see. So what were you thinking to do by going in alone?”

Loki considered. “I had planned to allow myself to be captured and taken to Malekith. If I can convince him that I will aid him in getting into the Vault, the Destroyer will kill him.”

“But he’s not alone, right? According to Thor, he’ll have a small army with him.”

“Yes, that is a problem,” Loki allowed. “But they’ll be disorganized, demoralized. Malekith is ambitious one.”

Steepling his fingers together on the battered plastic table, Fury inquired reasonably, “You don’t think one of his lieutenants will just move up and take his place?”

“It’s possible, but unlikely.”

“Why not?” Sitwell wanted to know.

“He is a weak leader,” Thor said, disparagingly. “He does not encourage strength in his subordinates.”

“True,” Loki nodded, surprised that Thor knew this. It wasn’t that Thor was entirely ignorant or slow-witted, he knew. It was just his brother seldom bothered to pay attention.

Tony Stark cleared his throat and asked, “What about your allies, the good elves?”

Thor shook his head. “I doubt they will be able to come to our aid.”

“Not unless we can secure the Bifrost.” Loki turned to give Stark a speculative look. Having the Man of Iron come with them was beginning to seem more advantageous.

“So we need to do that,” Fury said, as if it were going to be as simple as buying eggs in the market.

“Um. Yes. That would be... good.” If it could be done. Loki attempted to be optimistic. “ If you can secure the Bifrost and send someone to Alfheim, they can send their strongest magicians and break the spell. With all of Asgard’s warriors awake and Malekith dead, the rest of the Svartálfar would probably withdraw without a fight. Fighting isn’t really their way.”

Clearly heartened, Thor pointed out, “So even if the rest of us should fall under this spell when we arrive, we will be able to fight along the rest of Asgard, once the spell is lifted. And the warriors will need their prince to lead them!”

“The warriors will need their prince to tell them not to skewer Loki for looking like a Jotun,” Fandral reminded.

“You see, brother?” Thor’s smile was positively infuriating. You are going to need me there.”

“All right,” Loki groused sullenly, “But if you are coming along, you are not wearing that!”

“What?” Thor looked down at his attire.

“That eye-searing red cape!”

“Yes, I shall! It is part of my attire as crown prince of Asgard!”

“That is exactly why you can’t wear it, Thor,” Loki replied, with strained patience. “If you fall asleep, we can hide you with very little effort if you look like every other sleeping Aesir warrior. As long as they don’t see Mjölnir. We’ll have to cover that with something, I suppose.”

“Such deceptions are without honor,” Thor grumbled.

“No cape!”

Thor crossed his arms, tucking his chin down stubbornly. “Next you will want me to shave my beard and wear women’s attire.”

“As much as I would enjoy that, I believe plain armor or servant’s attire will suffice. Though shaving your beard wouldn’t hurt,” Loki added, without much hope.

“I am not shaving my beard. Such tricks are for weaklings!”

“No, they are not,” Natasha suddenly sat up straighter, her eyes bright with anger. “I use disguises in my missions all the time, and I assure you, I am not a weakling.”

Thor blinked. “But you are a woman. That’s different!”

Now Sif was also glaring daggers at Thor. 

“How is it different?” Natasha demanded.

Attempting to make Thor see reason before the two women went for his brother’s privates, Loki stated firmly, “It is not weakness to try to keep you safe while you are unconscious and can’t defend yourself! 

Turning to face the Aesir Shield Maiden, he said, “In fact, I am sure even Sif will be willing to wear a dress, just this once, and it will not make her any less a brilliant fighter.”

Fandral snorted softly, earning an icy stare from both women. 

Honestly, Loki wondered how Fandral had ever gained a reputation as a ladies man.

But Sif had to agree, if for no other reason than to prove Thor wrong. “Fine. I’ll wear a damned dress. As a disguise.”

Natasha just said, “Thor, if you pass out when we get to Asgard, I am going to write ‘Sexist Pig’ on your forehead in magic marker.”

“Maybe we should all go in disguise?” Volstagg offered, peaceably.

“It would be safer,” Loki agreed. “The dark elves are not especially good at distinguishing individuals from other races, but the Warriors Three are well-known, and Thor would be more likely to be recognized if he was in the company of a fat man and a fop.”

“Fop?” Fandral cried. “Just because I like to dress with style?”

“What about me?” Hogun asked.

“You look much less grim when you are sleeping,” Loki assured him.

“Okay, so that’s settled,” Tony said. “What about you?” he asked Loki. “Are you going with the whole blue fairy look?”

“I don’t see that I have a choice,” Loki sighed. “If I had my magic, I would change back to my Aesir form for this. I could tell Malekith much better lies if I could look normal.”

“You know,” Agent Coulson spoke up. “I think we might be able to do something about that.”

Loki straightened, hopefully. “You know someone who can cast a glamour?”

Coulson didn’t smile, but he managed to convey the sentiment anyway. “You could say that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to all you readers who comment frequently. I love hearing what you guys think!


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to Asgard at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Independence Day to my fellow Americans!

Vincente Costa and Alexis Hollander were two of SHIELD’s most unusual and useful special agents. Although they were in high demand in Hollywood as a special effects makeup artist and costume designer, they each made time to teach a special class each year at SHIELD Academy.

Vincent taught the art of disguise, from subtle to extreme. How to wear a wig and apply false facial hair. How to add or subtract years from one’s face. How to dye hair for longer-term identities. How to fake scars or conceal tattoos. How to deceive facial recognition software. How to see through other people’s disguises.

He had also helped SHIELD to convincingly fake a few deaths, and substitute impostors for criminals, terrorists and once the president of a third world country.

Alexis taught the language of clothing. How to read a person’s age, origin and income at a glance. How to fit in or how to stand out. How to dress like an ingénue or a femme fatal, a faceless bureaucrat , a corporate mogul, or a homeless beggar. 

When Phil Coulson called them in on wardrobe for the Asgardians, they were eager to help.

Told they were to make Thor look as little like a prince as they could manage, they dressed him in rough hunting leathers, and used a temporary dye to darken his golden hair and beard.

Volstag they dressed as a barkeep or innkeeper, which in truth suited his girth better than his role as a warrior.

Hogun they dressed as one of the herding nomad folk of Asgard’s northernmost provinces, in a long tunic and loose trousers, and a tooled leather vest and fur cap. They also applied a false beard and long mustache. They said it was the guise of a famous warrior from Midgard’s past, who had conquered most of the known world, which amused him.

When Fandral objected to being dressed as a peasant, they went the opposite direction, and dressed him in bright silks, slightly shabby, as would be appropriate for an entertainer of dubious talents or dubious skills. Unlike Volstagg and Thor, Fandral had no objection to losing his beard. He claimed to know a few ladies who with a preference for a smooth face.

Sif they attired as a barmaid, since the plan was to open the portal in a rundown tavern district adjacent to the pathway to the Rainbow Bridge. She snarled and muttered about the tight bodice and unwieldy skirts, but subsided when Natasha volunteered to wear a similar outfit. 

Agents Barton and Coulson were also fitted into simple, rustic clothing as would befit a poorer merchant and his hired guard.

Then they turned their attentions and talents on Loki, applying paints and placing colored lenses in his eyes, painting his nails and dressing him passing facsimile of his more practical armor, in black leather with green and gold accents. Last but not least, with Stark’s help they crafted a replica of his helm, with extra room and padding to allow for his budding horns.

When they were finished, he was once again outwardly Aesir, Odin’s younger son. 

“You look like yourself again,” Thor commented over his shoulder as Loki stared into the full-length mirror. “Maybe a little too pale.”

“No, he was always that sickly shade,” Fandral chortled. “Too much time in the library and not enough out in the sun!”

I was never meant for the sun, Loki thought, remembering the soothing dimness of Jotunheim. He felt very odd, staring at this semblance of what he had always thought of as his true self. How real had that other self been, anyway? Which was the real Loki?

Stark, in the plain attire of a servant, poked his head through the door. “You look fabulous, Reindeer Games. Are we all set? Selvig says everything is a go for firing up the portal.”

Loki turned, briefly meeting the eyes of everyone who was going with him, and reading the battle fires alight in each. “We’re ready.”

\--------------

The Tesseract behaved beautifully, opening a portal into the walled courtyard of The Drunken Dragon, a popular drinking establishment close to the Bifrost bridge. Looking through it, they could see customers sprawled on and around the outdoor tables, looking as if they had all indulged in too much drink. The opening was large enough for them to plunge through three at a time, shoving the barrels and bundles that contained their hidden weapons and gear before them.

As the last of their group stepped through and stood blinking in the bright afternoon of Asgard’s spring, the portal closed behind them with a whoosh, and Thor and his friends all fell sound asleep.

“If we are very lucky, the guards from this side of the Bifrost will be the ones who come to investigate,” Loki told Stark, as they rushed to put the sleeping Aesir and their supplies in natural-looking positions. “You have the map and the instructions for using the controls?”

“Got it,” Tony nodded, grunting under his half of Volstagg’s weight. “You watch yourself with Voldemort or whoever. We’ll get through to Elfhome.”

“You are going to have to explain what you are saying to me when this is all over, Tony Stark,” Loki insisted.

“Consider it a date,” Stark laughed. “Several, since a lot of long movies are required.”

Straightening, Loki looked around to see everyone else in position or nearly so. Thor and his companions looked like the rest of the sleeping tavern patrons and staff, and Mjölnir was hidden under what seemed a tumble of spilled firewood. The barrels and other bundles of their supplies were placed along the wall near the building, among others that had already been there.

Somewhere nearby, a door crashed open, and muffled shouts rang out. Everyone not already pretending to sleep hurriedly slumped into boneless heaps. Stark dropped to the ground after giving Loki a final grin and a soundlessly mouthed ‘good luck’.

Summoning all his anger and courage, Loki threw back his shoulders, raised his chin, and greeted the half dozen black and gold armored figures who stormed through the inn’s back door with his most arrogant expression.

“I am Loki, of Asgard, and I am burdened with glorious purpose. Take me to Malekith. He and I need to talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fans of Chris Hemsworth and Tadanobu Asano may recognize their disguises as outfits from other movies. Vincente Costa and Alexis Hollander are just my little tribute to all the fantastic people whose work in costumes and makeup who help make the movies and characters we love look fabulous.
> 
> As always, I love hearing from you guys! And if you happened to have read this far without leaving kudos, well...what's up with that? Leaving kudos is good karma.


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki demonstrates why he is known as 'Silvertongue'.

After Loki had killed two of the masked Svartálfar with his knives, wounded two others enough to take them out of the fight, and disarmed one of the last two standing, the dark elves prudently decided to let their leader deal with him, and led him away, the wounded limping after.

When they were certain they were alone again, the humans all rose to their feet, brushing off dirt and grass and hurrying to get their armor and weapons on.

“Holy House of Flying Daggers,” Stark crowed, grinning. “Did you fucking see that? Loki is as much of a badass as Thor.” 

“You were supposed to have your eyes closed, Stark. What if they’d seen you?” Barton didn’t bother putting any bite in the reprimand. He known Stark long enough that the man almost never followed instructions, or felt any guilt about it after. He drew his bow out of its case and checked it over, then added his quiver. 

“They were too busy having their butts handed to them,” Tony said, pulling out the portable Iron Man suit and powering it up.

“I saw,” Natasha agreed, stripping down to her skintight Kevlar mesh suit and looping on belts and bandoliers of knives, pistols, and other tricks. Her Widow’s Sting had been concealed by long sleeves, since she had refused to be completely unarmed.  
“He’s good, but he’s not going to be able to do this alone, so shut up and let’s get moving.”

“Ready, willing and able, gorgeous,” Stark shot back, as the armor closed over his face.

“All right,” Agent Coulson said, pulling a large, alien-looking gun out of one of the barrels. “Let’s go.”

\----------

“Prince Loki,” Malekith smiled in malicious pleasure as his troops led Loki into Odin’s throne room, where the Erlking sprawled atop Odin’s throne. “How good of you to put yourself in my hands. You are exactly what I require to make your foolish mother see reason.”

The Erlking’s scarred, half-blackened face gave his cruel, proud features a sinister appearance, and he wore a bejeweled cloth of gold robe over his black and gold armor.

“Malekith the Accursed.” Loki swept into the grand chamber, ignoring the ‘guards’ trailing after him. “I gather your plans have not gone as you anticipated?”

“A small delay, soon corrected, now that you are here,” Malekith replied. With a twist of his hand, he spun off a spell that bound Loki’s arms tightly to his sides.

It was uncomfortable, and would only tighten if he struggled. If he’d had access to his own magic, Loki could have easily broken the bonds. Before the other magician could begin to wonder why he made no attempt to free himself, Loki began his plan.

“Perhaps,” he answered with his most charming and disarming smile. “But I came of my own volition. I have a proposal for you. You might like it.”

Malekith frowned faintly. “You are in no position to offer anything, princeling.”

“I disagree.” Loki raised his chin haughtily. “I can give you Asgard.”

Chuckling darkly, the leader of the Svartálfar leaned back on the golden throne. “It is already mine, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“I have seen, yes, but can you keep it? Will you allow the Aesir to wake, and be enemies at your back? You can destroy Asgard, yes, but you cannot rule here. They will never accept a ruler who isn’t one of them.” 

“How interesting that you should say so.” Malekith propped his chin on his hand, to all appearances confident and amused, but Loki could read the slightest doubt in his glittering eyes. 

“I heard a rumor that you were not one of them, but in fact a Jotun war prize.”

“Did you?” Loki smiled, one liar to another. “You think Odin would raise a Jotun as his own son?”

Malekith raised his brows inquiringly. “It does not seem likely, but it is what I have heard.”

“Do you not think it quite the coincidence, that I should turn out to be a Jotun foundling, just as I was sent to negotiate peace with the frost giants? You disappoint me, Malekith.”

“Ah, I see,” the Erlking studied his new prisoner like an bored cat with a bold mouse between its paws. “Another one of your little tricks, then?” 

“Laufey was much more sympathetic with a stolen orphan of his own kind than a son of Odin, and I have not spent my entire life preparing to be king of Asgard only to have my fool of a brother embroil my realm in a war,” Loki sneered.

“And now your brother is so conveniently banished,” the leader of the dark elves purred, delightedly. “How it must gall you to have planned and plotted to surplant him, only to find me on the throne you so coveted.”

“I won’t say I’m pleased about it,” Loki admitted grudgingly. “Nonetheless, I can adapt my plans to suit.”

“You think so, do you?” Rising from the throne, Malekith slowly decended the steps till he stood only one above Loki, looking down at him with contempt, but also a little curiosity.

“Tell me what it is you think you can do for me, lying little princeling.”

“To begin with, I can get you into the All-Father’s Vault. Both Thor and I are exempt from the defensive spells.” Loki offered. “That is what you most need, is it not?”

“Gungnir will get me in,” Malekith countered. “Do you not think your mother will surrender it if I threaten to cut your throat in front of the Raven Tower?”

“She would. My mother would do anything for me, of course.” Loki put as much nonchalance as he could summon into his voice, and fought not to show fear at being in the Erlking’s reach. If Malekith should discover he was unable to use his magic at all, there were far worse things than death that might befall him. 

“You could do that, and kill me, my mother, and the All-Father. You could take the treasures from my father’s Vault and conquer the Nine Realms. I don’t doubt it.” Loki was careful not to sound too obsequious.  
“Though I must say it seems almost childishly straightforward, when your people have such a reputation for deviousness.”

A slight scowl drew Malekith’s brows down in displeasure. “Do not presume to know my plans.”

“Of course not, oh Erlking!” Loki dropped his eyes, smiling. “As I said, you could do these things, but you would never truly rule Asgard. Either you must possess it as a rebellious, dangerous prize, or leave it destroyed in your wake.”

Sarcastically, Malekith drawled. “I presume you mean to offer me a better option?”

“I do indeed.”

“Very well.” Reaching out, the Erlking traced two fingers up the curve of Loki’s helm, making him shudder. If he should remove the helm-

“Tell me your proposition, then.”

Releasing the breath he had been holding, Loki made his offer. “I will give you access to the Vault, and when you have what you want, you will go and leave me to take the throne.”

“And why would I do this?” Malekith stalked around Loki, who stood still and pretended not to be the least bit concerned about this predatory behavior.

“You would have what you want, which is control of Asgard,” he promised, letting a bit of desperation leak into his voice. 

“The people would never cease to struggle against your rule, but I would be their rightful king. If my commands happened to coincide with your wishes, what can they do but obey?”

Leaning over his shoulder, Malekith used a touch of magic to make him flinch from a sudden flash of pain. 

“You would be satisfied as my puppet, little prince? Maybe I should find out how well you dance on my strings.”

“Oh, I think I could be more than that,” Loki bit his lip against the next jolt and smiled. “I would prefer to be your most loyal secret viceroy, perhaps. After all, the Nine Realms is vast. You will not wish to be bothered with ruling all of them yourself. Think how tedious that would be.”

“You claim you would be loyal to me?” 

This time the magic was a wave of pure pleasure, and Loki shut his eyes as his whole body tightened in ecstasy, and trembled as it slowly ebbed away.

Breathless, Loki panted, “I would.”

Now the pain and pleasure together. Loki clenched his teeth against crying out, locked his knees to stay on his feet though he shook.

It ceased as Malekith leaned in so close their faces nearly touched. “If you betray me, I will make you beg for death.”

Gasping, Loki spat, “If you cannot persuade me to be loyal, I will have to kill you first.”

Malekith threw back his head and let out a peel of silvery laughter. It was a lovely, mad sound. “Oh, I like you, little puppet prince, with your promises and your threats.”

“The feeling is not mutual.”

“No?” Running a hand down his chest, the dark elf subjected him to the pleasure again. 

It went on and on, far harder to resist and endure than pain. Letting himself fold down to his knees, Loki groaned softly. 

“You say you don’t like me, Odin’s son?” he taunted, letting the feeling end. The loss of it was almost as bad as the pain had been before. 

“Not yet, your majesty,” he whispered, his tone properly humbled, and his mind spinning plans of murder.

“How shall I win your precious loyalty, then?”

Cautiously, Loki looked up into Malekith’s amused face. “I want your word that I will have the throne of Asgard. I will rule it however you see fit, but they will not know. I will be their king.”

“Is that all?” 

Time to embellish his lies a little. “I want my mother’s safety assured. None shall harm her, now or ever.”

“And the All-Father? You have not touched on how he comes into this. After all, we are bargaining for a throne that is only temporarily vacant.” Malekith was listening, he was interested.

“The All-Father is old. He is very tired, and has suffered from many shocks as late,” Loki pointed out. “The Odinsleep was long delayed, and has been longer than normal. If he were never to wake, people would not be so surprised, would they?”

“You would murder your own father for me?” Seemingly flattered, Malekith drew Loki back to his feet, watching his face as if he would be able to see through Loki’s lies. He would not.

“For the good of Asgard. If he wakes, he will forgive my fool of a brother and put him on the throne instead. I do not think you would care to face Asgard’s armies with Thor leading them.”

“Just where is your brother now?”

“Banished, without his powers or his hammer. I do not know where, only that Odin always forgives him in the end.” All the anger he had ever felt about that, Loki put into his voice. The best lies were built on truths.

Now so close that Loki feared the Erlking would kiss him, the invader asked, “Are you so tired of living in your brother’s shadow?”

The best lies were built on truths, and this was both. “Yes.”

Malekith smiled and released his bonds. Loki took a step back and shook out his sleeves.

“Let us go down to the Vault, then, little puppet prince, and see if you can win yourself a throne.”


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Events do not proceed quite as planned, and Malekith gets the upper hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not long to go now!

Either the Svartálfar invasion force was small and thinly spread, or they were foolishly overconfident, Phil Coulson thought, as he stepped over the bodies of the small group that had been left to guard the Observatory, where the Bifrost controls were housed.

A small and or arrogant enemy force was a good thing, in his opinion, because the dark elves were tough opponents. They were fast and strong, and their armor was impervious to both Clint’s arrows and Natasha’s bullets. 

They carried some kind of energy weapons, but also fought with highly sophisticated illusions of monstrous creatures, or flying weapons, dazzling bursts of light, obscuring mists, and pockets of swirling shadows.

Luckily, Clint had taken out two of the ten before they were even aware of his presence, with arrows through the eyeholes of their gold masks, and the Widow’s Sting incapacitated one their attackers well enough to give Natasha time to get her knives through the seams in the armor. She had then collected his weapon and found that it very effectively cut smoking holes through bodies on short bursts, and sliced off heads and limbs with more extended fire.

Stark’s suit was scorched, but mostly undamaged, and as he was used to depending on his instruments instead of his eyes, he was not fooled by the illusions. The dark elves had apparently never faced anything like his repulsors and his unibeam, which while not fatal in themselves, distracted and disoriented them enough to make them easy targets for Natasha and Clint. 

Coulson, last to arrive, shot the one who was attempting to flee with his nifty new Tesseract-based gun, which evaporated the dark elf without so much as a trace. It was likely for the best that Stark had been too busy with his own opponents to notice this.

As soon as the fighting was done, Stark had gone straight to the large sleeping figure in gold armor and gingerly pulled out his huge sword, carrying it to the central control column. 

“Almost ready,” Tony told him, looking over at him through the scanned in diagrams included with Loki’s neatly written instructions. “Who the hell uses a sword as part of a device for interstellar travel, anyhow?”

“Just be sure you are sure how to turn it off,” Clint warned. “Or this is going to be the shortest diplomatic mission on record.”

“Don’t worry, Katniss. I am 99.9% sure that I know exactly what I’m doing,” Stark called back. 

“That makes me feel so much better,” Clint said, as he dragged a Svartálfar corpse out of the way, kicking along the detached arm.

Coulson did not sigh, however much he might want to. The enemy wasn’t the only one with an overabundance of confidence, but Stark really was the genius he so often claimed to be, and they simply didn’t have time to be overcautious.

He stepped onto the now cleared platform. 

“I’ll open it again once every half hour,” Stark said.

They had no way of knowing if his departure would be noticed, or how long they had before the guards they had dispatched would be missed. Their only advantages were that a narrow bridge would be easy to defend, especially from cover, and, according to Loki, the Ljósálfar would be watching for someone’s arrival.

“All right,” Coulson gave Clint a final nod, before telling Stark, “do it.”

Stark plunged the sword into the slot and twisted. Around them, the dome of the Observatory began to rotate. From around and beneath them, they heard the sound of machinery whirring into motion. 

Before Coulson, a tunnel of light stretched into infinity, rapidly expanding to fill his vision. Then gravity shifted, and he was falling, plunging through a stream of light.

The fall seemed to take forever, but when his feet struck down on a solid surface, Phil had the sense it had taken no time at all. The Bifrost closed with a thundering boom, and he looked around what appeared to be a green valley, surrounded by majestic, looming mountains.

“Welcome, traveller!” A chiming voice rang out behind him, causing him to spin around. 

A white-haired woman of extraordinary beauty was extending her arms in greeting. Her ears rose into points, and her sculpted features and slender frame were just a little wrong for a human. She was clearly of the same race as the messenger who had appeared on SHIELD’s passenger plane to find Loki and Thor, so Coulson felt pretty sure that Stark had aimed the Bifrost correctly.

“I am Queen Freya,” she told him, confirming this. “Welcome to Alfheim.”

\----------

Completing the final step of the puzzle lock, Loki stepped back and bowed to Malekith as the great bolts released, and the bars across the Vault doors slid soundlessly aside.

“After you, your majesty.”

“I don’t think so, little puppet prince,” the Erlking smirked, shaking his head. “As you are the one your father’s spells will not attack, I must insist you go first.”

“I assure you, my lord I have disabled all the defenses.” 

A light sweat broke out on Loki’s forehead. Something had changed in Malekith’s demeanor on their way from the throne room, but he had little choice but to continue the game, though he could feel the odds shifting against him.

A sharp flash of teeth split the half black face. “Of course you have. My loyal viceroy. But I believe I shall simply let you go in and bring my treasures out for me.”

This was not a scenario that Loki had planned for. His plan to trap Malekith in the Vault for the Destroyer would not work if the damned Svartálfar mage would not go in. Of course, Loki might go in and safely wait for the humans to accomplish their mission, if they could.

Still, he made one more attempt. Surely it would worry Malekith at least a little to think of Loki getting possession of some of the Vault’s contents.  
“My lord, I am honored to think you trust me to-”

“Oh, but I don’t trust you, princeling.”

Warned by the venomous malice in the Erlking’s voice, Loki tried to back away, intending to sprint down into the Vault, but he was caught from behind by two of the soldiers that had accompanied them. He fought wildly, nearly breaking loose before more of the dark elves joined in, stilling struggles through the sheer volume of bodies surrounding him. 

He considered calling up ice, but hesitated. His Jotun nature was his only hidden knife, and he was loath to show it too soon.

A moment later he was regretting that hesitation, as a noose of coruscating magic tightened around his throat, eliciting a strangled cry of rage and abhorrence. Instinctively, he tried to wrench his hands free to claw at it, but was held fast.

The spell itched and burned like nettles as it sank under his skin and spread down, but quickly turned to a kind of prickling numbness, and Loki’s body felt distant and disconnected, and ceased to obey him. Gradually, he went still in his captors grip. 

Malekith’s low chuckle was like the rasp of basilisk scales over stone. He waved his hand, and the soldiers stepped away, leaving Loki standing unfettered. He could not so much as twitch below his chin.

“This is not necessary,” he snarled, unable to manage the affronted mien he wished while his mind chattered in terror.

“No? But this is what you were volunteering to be, I thought. My own little puppet.” 

He spent some time putting Loki through a series of humiliating little exercises, bowing, dancing, kissing the Erlking’s boots. Just proving his power, not to mention what a clichéd bastard he was.

As much as it made him him long to rend Malekith and all his laughing minions into tiny, bloody shreds, Loki welcomed these petty games. As long as he was dancing and bowing for the mage’s amusement, he was not fetching out relics to be used against his brother, or his people, or their fragile human allies.

“I was going to ask if you thought I was as easily deceived as the Jotuns, but now I think perhaps I have underestimated them,” Maleketh commented as he kept Loki on his knees, his lips pressed against highly polished leather.

“Did they catch on to your lies and seal away your magic? Did you run home just ahead of an angry mob of frost giants out for your blood?”

“I am somewhat surprised,” he reflected. “I did not think the Jotuns had any true sorcerers, but perhaps they hired someone. A dwarven spellcaster, perhaps?”

Snapping his fingers, he ordered Loki to stand up. Loki did, noting worriedly that some of the lip color had come off and was marring the shine. He pressed his lips together, hoping they were still Aesir pink.

“But you mustn’t think I will break our bargain, princeling. Your ideas have merit. After you have emptied your father’s vault for me, we will go someplace quiet and spend a little time on your mind.”

From Malekith’s satisfied leer, Loki knew his horror must show on his face, despite his efforts to conceal it. It would not happen, he promised himself. The mortals would get through and bring help. Thor would wake and the Erlking would be defeated. He clung hard to that belief.

“I believe I will leave you here to destroy Asgard from within. Perhaps a civil war, if your brother should find his way back after the All-Father is dead.”

The nightmare images unfolded vividly in Loki’s imagination. Not going to happen, he reminded himself determinedly. 

“Once your brother is slain, and Asgard’s armies are in ruins, I will return to Asgard as a liberator, and when I take you away in chains, all your subjects will cheer,” Malekith gloated.

Again, all too easy to picture. Loki’s denial burst out of him, white hot. “Asgard will never submit to you, nor will I!”

“We will soon see, princeling.” Malekith walked back to the great doors to the Vault and gestured for Loki to join him. “Open it.”

Unable to stop himself, Loki walked forward and swung wide the doors, feeling the spells that protected the Vault wake, then go dormant again as they recognized his presence. 

No, no, no, he chanted silently, as outwardly he awaited for his next order. There had to be some way out of this. Had to be.

In a light, silky voice that still managed to cut like a lash, Malekith said, “Now, go and bring me your father’s relics.”

Though his mind screamed defiance, Loki’s feet moved to the Erlking’s command, and so in he went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I can't thank people enough for commenting, leaving kudos and bookmarking. You guys are what keeps me at the keyboard during every spare minute. I live for your approval!


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki chooses what to give to Malekith.

He had not descended half a dozen steps when Loki heard the sound of booted feet outside, pelting across the stone floor of the Vault’s antechamber.

“My king!” the breathless shout was loud enough to carry clearly to Loki, whose feet continued a measured pace down the stairs into the treasure chamber despite all his efforts to slow or turn them. 

Fortunately, Malekith continued to stand next to the still open doors, waiting for the messenger to come to him, so his news was still audible to Loki.

“My king,” he gasped out, “Enemies have taken control of the Bifrost!”

“What enemies?” the Erlking demanded, incredulously. “How?”

“We are not sure, your majesty,” the bearer of bad news admitted hesitantly. “The commander who sent me believes they may be from Midgard.”

“Midgard?” Malekith snarled dismissively. “Is this some kind of joke?”

“No, my king!” the messenger exclaimed earnestly, and then both voices grew indistinct as Loki moved beyond the range of now lowered voices.

So Stark’s team had at least made it that far. But Loki had failed to do his part. Stark and the others might be able to hold a while against a few dark elves, but they would be no match against Malekith. If they were captured or killed before the spell was broken, all would be lost. 

He had done worse than fail, in truth, and was now helpless not to give the invading Svartalfar everything he had wanted, and even more. His ruse was bound to be discovered soon, and Malekith would learn of his true nature and his importance to Jotunheim. Laufey had told him the Jotuns would make nearly any bargain to ensure his safety if he should be captured, and now he had been. Had he handed the Erlking an army of frost giants to fight alongside his own? Would being held hostage for such a cause at least spare him the fate of being the puppet king who brought about the ruin of Asgard?

As he reached the first alcove, containing the Orb of Agamotto, Loki slowed his breathing, fighting to regain some measure of control over both his body and his wits.

The Orb was less immediately dangerous than many of the other relics, and he briefly toyed with the idea of just taking it to Malekith without attempting to resist the spell. It would at least let him go back upstairs and find out what was happening.

But compulsion spells were insidious that way, and Loki resisted out of sheer pique. He was Loki, and he did what he wanted, and what he wanted was nothing that would satisfy the spell. What he wanted was to thwart Malekith in every way. Taking him a lesser artifact would not discomfit him, or even inconvenience him.

Worse, once he stood before the Erlking again, Malekith might issue him new, even more disastrous orders. Now was the time to act, if only he could find a loophole.

He turned the command over in his mind. “Bring me your father’s relics.” If Odin was not truly his father, after all, he reasoned, he needn’t fetch out any relics. 

But such magics were not so easily circumvented, else Loki might have pretended that the Erlking had instructed him to kiss a different pair of his boots that he had left at home on Svartalfheim. One was forced to perform what one believed to be the intent of an order, not merely the words.

If he could make himself sincerely believe that Odin was not his father, he might slip the noose. So he tried. He tried with all his might to convince himself, because it was all he could think of to try.

The All-Father is not my father, he lied adamantly to himself. He did not sire me. He stole me from a defeated people, for some political purpose. He lied to me all my life. He is not my father, no matter how he may have pretended to love me. It was wrenchingly painful to even think these things, but he had to. He HAD to believe it.

He forced himself to recall his last trip down into the Vault, trying to recover the doubt and uncertainty that had been tearing his world apart.

Odin saying, “You are my son.”

Fárbauti is my true father. I cannot bring my father’s relics if my father is not my father, only my other father’s. Which would be the Casket, right?

Oh no. No, no, no. 

Loki bypassed the Orb. He continued on past the Tablet of Life and Time. The Warlock’s Eye did not tempt him to pause.

Too late, he discovered that his twisted reasoning had set up a strange resonance in his mind, and he had become fixated on the Casket. Because it was his father’s. Both his fathers.

Ignoring the Eternal Flame, and paying no heed to the Infinity Gauntlet, Loki inexorably drew nearer to the plinth where Jotunheim’s greatest treasure lay waiting, and continued to try and argue semantics with the constraints laid upon him.

The Casket of Ancient Winters does not belong to Fárbauti, who was only Honored Consort, not king of Jotunheim. So he has no claim on it. Except he had said that it belonged to the Jotun people. No. It belongs to Odin, who had won it in fearsome struggle, who had not stolen it from its rightful place, who is NOT my father! Not, not, NOT. 

The Casket shone softly, blue-white mist swirling in its depths, magic and cold emanating from it like the opposite of fire. 

My birthright, Laufey called it. The power of the Void, expressed through the heart of Jotunheim.

Compelled, his hands reached out and lifted it, just as he had before. Just as it had before, its power flowed into him. It no longer felt alien, or hostile. The storms still raged there, violent and deadly, but now he sensed more. So much more. For the first time, Loki understood why the race of his birth so desperately wanted this back. 

Not just because it was a powerful weapon, though it was. He could feel that potential in it. It also held the essence of their world and their people. 

The first time he had taken it up, it had filled him with anger and horror, but now it enveloped his agitated spirit in an icy calm. Malekith’s command receded from his mind, as he shut his eyes and allowed Jotunheim’s soul to flow into him.

It was the vast glaciers, and the eerie forests of ironwood. It was rugged mountains and frozen over seas, and frost flowers that dissolved at a touch. Delicate snowflakes in Angrboða’s hair. An endless sky full of stars that seemed close enough to reach up and take. The haunted emptiness of tundra beneath the paws of running wolves. The ruins of glittering cities rising above the plains.

Its people were as much a part of Jotunheim as their land. They were fierce hunters and stolid herders. Resolute fishermen. Skilled craftsmen. Loving mates and parents. Sturdy blue-skinned children burrowing naked through the snow. 

Jotunheim was also the killing cold, and the knife-sharp wind. The hidden, bottomless chasms in the ice. Avalanches like white rivers hurtling down the slopes. Fearsome predators. Merciless destruction to the weak and unwary, and to the arrogant. 

Loki’s eyes opened and his lips drew back in a ferocious smile. The Casket’s influence had not entirely freed him from Malekith’s spell, but it had weakened its hold. He might not be able to resist the Erlking’s orders, but he could feel his body again. He could move independently, as long as he wasn’t ordered not to.

There was still time, he thought. Time to do his part. Time make Tony’s plan come out right. After that, Thor and his friends could finish up the rest.

“If Malekith wants a relic, a relic he shall have.” Loki cradled it to his chest and turned to go back. “Along with a demonstration.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a fine line between the boringly predictable and the thrillingly inevitable. I do hope I managed to land on the right side of it!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malekith gets what he deserves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little more. I wanted to finish this weekend, but it isn't going to happen. But you guys should be used to cliffhangers by now!

To divert possible suspicion and give Stark and the others more time, Loki delayed as much he dared, climbing back up the Vault’s stairs in a slow shuffle, feigning rebellion and resistance. He walked hunched over, as if in pain, as he would have been, had he been fighting the spell as it had been, before the Casket had frayed its effect.

“Hurry up, princeling,” Malekith called impatiently, from the entrance.

Further curling around what he carried, Loki quickened his steps, bent nearly double as he exited the Vault. Pretending little gasps of pain, he made certain of his grip on the Casket’s fastenings and waited.

Growling, the dark elf caught one of the horns of his helm and wrenched his face up to meet Malekith’s derisive frown.

“As much as your pathetic attempts at defiance amuse me, we are going to have to postpone this for now. It seems I am required at the Bifrost to clear out a nest of vermin. Would you know anything about that?”

Loki said nothing, just hugged the Casket of Ancient Winters tighter to his chest.

“What did you bring me, then?” The Erlking bent closer, reaching for what Loki held. “Give it to me.”

“Very well.” Loki opened the Casket of Ancient Winters, and gave Malekith what it contained. A geyser of deepest cold poured forth, causing the very air to crackle as all the moisture turned to frost.

The dark elf flew backwards, ice forming on his surprised face, on his armor, in his long white hair. His hands froze stiffly in place as he conjured defensive spells.

His men barely had time to cry out in confusion and terror as they were turned to sparkling statues, then burst into frozen shards.

The room around them now resembled an ice cave, and Loki knew the cold was continuing to expand. He needed to close the Casket soon if it was not to kill the slumbering Einherjar guards they had passed on the way.

The thought of being responsible for the deaths of more of his father’s guards made Loki queasy, but he could not stop yet. The Erlking was far less easy to kill than his troops, and Loki could tell he wasn’t dead yet, because the spell controlling him had not broken.

He shifted his grip on the Casket and drew a long dagger, and the ice around Malekith’s body fell away as he changed to a swirling column of smoke, then back to himself. 

“YOU DARE!!!” he screamed, rage twisting his half handsome, half grotesque features as he thrust out a hand, intensifying the spell around Loki like a strangling python. “I will make you suffer for centuries for your temerity, cur!”

Writhing helplessly on the floor, Loki could barely breath, but he held on stubbornly as his tormenter attempted to wrench the Casket from his hands. “Not. If. I. Kill. You. First.”

Malekith kicked him, and he felt ribs crack, but he held on, drawing the power of Winter into himself, fighting back with ice and wind and cold. He could feel the increasing strain on Malekith’s power as the sorcerer struck these aside.

Kneeling over him, the elf put teeth into his spell and had it bite down hard. “You will close it, now!” 

Loki screamed, but he did not close it, or give it up into the Erlking’s grasping, clawing hands. It was so cold now that even Loki’s breath fogged, and ice crystals formed on his eyelashes, frozen tears.

The wind tore at both of them, moaning and causing the great metal doors to swing wildly, crashing against the stone walls.

Even with their face only inches apart, Malekith still had to yell to be heard. “You puny little trickster, playing at magic! You think you can really use the Casket of Ancient Winters?”

Despite his agony, Loki found himself shaking with laughter. 

Malekith struck him across the mouth, making his head rock back. Loki could taste blood, oozing down his chin to form a frozen icicle, and bared his blood-stained teeth in a smile to see the moment that the dark elf registered its dark blue color.

“You ARE Jotun!” he howled.

Not bothering to answer this, Loki formed a spear of ice that thrust Malekith off him, across the room and pinned him to a wall.

The compulsion spell shattered, and Loki rolled up onto his knees, looking for the enemy, hoping to see a skewered corpse, but instead he saw a cloud of dark smoke, swirling away out the corridor. Escaping.

“No you don’t, you bastard.” Loki struggled to his feet, swaying, fighting for balance and pulling in even more of the Casket’s power to heal himself, and restore his strength.

The cold was no longer spreading, and Loki focused, pulling it back to himself, holding it close and ready to strike. Then he went after the would be ruler of the Nine Realms.

\--------

After waking face down on a table that stank of spilled ale and mead, Thor had required a few minutes to clear his head and remember how he had wound up in this tavern, dressed like a peasant, with his friends in similarly unfamiliar garb.

Someone(Thor suspected Loki, but it might have been Stark) had left Fandrel and Hogun sleeping in each others arms, which looked especially indecent, since Fandral was dressed like a Vanir rent boy, and Hogun wore the guise of a Northern sheep herder.

While the two of them were vehemently protesting their heterosexuality to the rest of the waking crowd, Thor only caught a fleeting glimpse of Sif in a dress as she vanished into the back of the building with her armor over one arm and carrying her glaive. He wondered if she had it to prevent it from being stolen, to discourage any voyeurs, or if she was going to chop the offending gown into tiny bits as soon as she was changed, to destroy the evidence.

No matter. Tony no doubt had pictures. Thor grinned as he summoned Mjölnir to his hand and lifted it, summoning a tiny bolt of lightening, just to get everyone’s attention.

It worked beautifully. The babbling, frightened, confused crowd all turned to stare at him, recognition dawning on their faces.

“Prince Thor! What is happening?” a warrior demanded, muscling his way to the front of the group.

Stepping up onto a table, Thor addressed them. “My people! Asgard has been attacked by vile magic, and invaded by the dark elves!”

Their shock turned quickly to anger. “Prince Thor, what should we do?” The innkeeper asked, echoed by much of the crowd.

“Those of you who are not trained at war should seek shelter, or go to your homes! Those of you who would fight beside me, arm yourselves and follow me to the Bifrost!”

All the men shouted approval, and rushed to find swords and spears, axes, hunting bows, scythes and clubs, while Thor and the Warriors Three found their own weapons and armor, including Thor’s cape.

It swirled proudly around him as he raised his hammer high, shouting “For Asgard!” and led them off at a run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much more to go!


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki is dead set on getting even.

Malekith had decamped in search of reinforcements, but as Loki followed, dodging and countering the attacks sent to delay and discourage him, he saw that few Svartálfar were left to come to his aid. The citizens of Asgard were waking up, and fighting had broken out in the Palace, and in the streets. 

The dark elves were skilled fighters, but they were outnumbered and direct combat went against their underhanded nature. He observed more than one of the enemy escaping into the Ways rather than stand and fight even against poorly armed cooks and servants who had risen up in defense of their home. 

A handful of the Einherjar guards and one of his old magic tutors had joined Loki in his hunt, but the intense cold surrounding him forced them to keep their distance. He barely noticed them, or the fact that they dealt with the few of Malekith’s minions who came at him. He ignored his allies and killed the enemies who got in his way, his whole being focused on catching up to the Erlking. 

Malekith the Accursed had dared to threaten everything he held dear, and Loki meant to see him dead, burned to dust and scattered. 

In response to his need, the Casket of Ancient Winters lent him power beyond his wildest dreams. Spinning vortexes of wind rose at a gesture, harrying his prey, forcing Malekith out of his incorporeal form. Flying lances and crushing walls of ice left the Erlking battered and limping, screaming imprecations and hurling spells that ought to have been deadly. They slid off Loki’s conjured shields of ice, or were flung back into his face.

Trapped by sheer walls of ice, surrounded by the scattered bodies of his followers, Malekith turned to hurl multiple balls of flame that threatened not Loki, but his determined group of helpers. 

Loki knew it at once as a diversion, and wished he could ignore it. He felt certain that his old tutor could protect himself, and the guard were supposed to be willing to die to protect Asgard and the royal family. But they had come to his aid, and he had not prevented them. Few had ever offered Loki the kind of unswerving loyalty that Thor had always received, and he could not repay such service by letting them be killed.

Using ice and cold to protect and defend was much trickier than attacking, and Loki’s response just barely less hazardous than the fire itself, but no one was killed, though all but the tutor were put out of any further fighting, wracked with shivering and frostbitten. 

The instant he was certain of their survival, Loki spun back to face Malekith, only to find him opening a Way and stepping through the shadowy cut in the air. Looking over his shoulder, the dark elf gave Loki a mocking smile.

Wild with frustration, Loki flung himself at the closing Way, volleys of ice daggers launching from his hands. The rent in the air shimmered closed before either they or he reached it. 

“No, no, NO!” he snarled, slamming the Casket shut. Turning his face up to the guileless blue of Asgard’s sky, he screamed his stymied rage. 

A tremulous voice brought him back to the present. “My prince?” his old tutor stood a hesitant distance from him still. He was an ancient wizened figure, slight and stooped, with long gray hair in a braid and a dusty blue robe. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Can you open a Way?” Loki demanded, without much hope. To his knowledge, he had been the only non-elf to travel by this method. Since they had the Bifrost, the few other magicians of Asgard had thought him strange to even wish to, but his old teacher was Vanir, born well before the All-Father had conquered Vanaheim.

“No, my prince.” Tutor Eyvindr shook his head and eyed Loki worriedly. “Are you all right? You look... strange.”

Looking down at his hands, Loki saw that the paint that allowed him to appear as an Aesir was smeared and worn through in streaks. He had lost his false helm somewhere in the fighting, and only his wind-snarled hair was obscuring his horns.

“I’m fine.” Turning on his heel, Loki called back, “See to the guards. I need to find my brother.” He needed to find Malekith, and if he could not use the Ways, he would use the Bifrost.

A few people approached him for news or aid as he made his way to the stables, but he tersely brushed them aside, noticing as he did how their expressions changed from hopeful to confused and suspicious whenever they got close enough to see through his failing disguise. 

His heart lifted somewhat to find his mare, Hrafnfaxa, in good health, if restless from lack of exercise. She shied at first from his strange scent and chill touch, but he calmed her with soft words, till she consented to be saddled. With the Casket wrapped in his coat and tucked firmly against his chest, he took the reins in his other hand and allowed her to leap into a ground-eating gallop, running for the Bifrost. 

\-------

The fighting at the Observatory had ended almost before Thor could arrive there. His mortal friends had held it long enough Tony Stark to use the Bifrost to bring a group of Ljósálfar magicians and archers, and once they had begun singing their counterspell, Heimdall and the Einherjar who had been stationed there had awakened and joined in. The few dark elves who had not been slain promptly fled or surrendered at the sight of yet more enraged Aesir bearing down on them from the other end of the bridge.

As others secured their prisoners, Thor greeted Stark, Barton, Natasha and Couson, ascertaining that none of his Midgardian friends had taken serious injury, then turned to face Asgard’s guardian and gatekeeper, whose stare was once again turned impassively outward.

“Heimdall, how goes the fighting?” he asked, swinging his hammer in short arcs, his longing for battle still boiling in his blood. 

“It is mostly over, my prince,” came Heimdall’s somewhat disappointing reply. “The Svartálfar are in retreat.”

“What of the All-Father, and mother?” 

“They are well, my prince.”

“That’s great news!” Tony Stark stepped up to stand next to Thor, opening his face plate to peer up quizzically at Heimdall. “What about Loki? Did he managed to kill Malodorous?”

For a moment, Heimdall did not reply, causing Thor’s heart to lurch in fear, before he said, “Loki is on his way here.”

Relief washed through Thor, and from his friends faces, he could tell he was not the only one. But Heimdall had not answered Tony’s question, so Thor asked again.  
“And Malekith?” 

“He has escaped, my prince.”

A ragged, bitter voice rang out from the doorway, contradicting Heimdall. “Not yet.” 

Loki stepped into the room, an icy wind flowing through the door with him, causing the those nearest it to back out of his way. 

One of his contact lenses was gone, leaving him with one green eye and one eye gleaming blood red. His clothing was ripped and bloodstained, and the horned helm was missing. His own tiny black horns jutted out through a tangle of black hair. His makeup was streaked and smeared with blue blood, with patches of blue skin showing through. Before him he carried the Casket of Ancient Winters.

A ripple of unease went through the crowd. Mutters and growls of ‘Jotun’ and ‘frost giant’ rose up, and men gripped their weapons more tightly.

“Brother,” Thor started forward eagerly, trailed by Sif and Volstagg and Tony Stark.

Loki did not appear to see them. He had eyes only for Heimdall as he walked towards him. “He has not escaped me. I will not allow it. Tell me where to find him.”

Heimdall did not look at Loki, or answer him, but stood statue-like at his post.

“Where is he?” There was nothing silver in Loki’s voice now, only ice and iron.

“Can you see him?” Thor asked, when the Gatekeeper continued to ignore Loki.

He did not look down, but he did answer this time. “Yes. He has returned to Svartálfheim.”

“Good,” Loki stepped past them. “Open the Bifrost. Send me there.”

Sif was frowning, watching Loki worriedly. “I don’t know if that is a good idea.”

“Is this another go it alone plan?” Stark inquired. “IS there a plan? Because you look a little on the crazy side right now.”

“Loki,” Thor approached his brother. “Why do you have that? What is it you are planning to do?”

“I am going to kill Malekith, if I have to turn Svartálfheim to a frozen rock in space,” Loki growled without looking at Thor. “Heimdall, open it!”

“By the regent’s command, none may travel without her permission,” Heimdall intoned, dispassionately.

Spinning around, Loki flung up a hand towards the guardian, who raised his sword as if to strike. Thick ice formed around him, freezing him in place. The crowd roared with anger, beginning to surge forward. Sif and the Warriors Three rushed to hold them back.

Reaching up, Loki wrenched Heimdall’s sword from his ice-locked grasp. “I will do it myself, then.”

“Brother, calm yourself,” Thor implored, grabbing Loki’s shoulder. “We can defeat the Erlking another day.”

“I don’t wish to defeat him,” Loki shot back, shoving Thor’s hand aside and going to the control column to sink the sword home. “I wish to kill him. I wish to kill all of them, and I am going to.”

“Okay, more than a little crazy,” Tony commented, resealing his faceplate. 

“You cannot mean that,” Thor argued stridently. “The battle is over. They have lost.”

“They invaded our home!” Loki shouted, his mismatched eyes wild. “They would have killed you. They would have killed mother and father! They deserve to be destroyed.”

“No, Loki.” Thor started towards him, but Loki hurled a boulder of solid ice that sent him sprawling across the chamber. 

“You were eager enough to kill when it was frost giants. Are the Svartálfar not monstrous enough for you?” Loki taunted, raggedly. “When did you get so soft?”

“Loki, you need to stop and think about this,” Stark urged. “I know how you feel, but revenge doesn’t really help.”

“Should we be trying to stop him?” Barton asked Coulson, as the Bifrost started powering up.

Natasha answered first. “Only if Thor can’t, I think.”

Coulson nodded. “Hold off for the moment.”

Thor staggered up, lifting his hammer but not throwing. “Loki, brother, I was wrong about the frost giants. I confess it. But this is madness.”

“Is it?”

“You cannot kill an entire race!” Thor shouted.

“Why not?” Loki screamed back. “They deserve it!”

“Loki.” Odin’s voice cut through the din, as the All-Father entered. All the Asgardians stopped and fell silent, kneeling to their king as he walked towards his sons.

Stark took the opportunity to duck behind Loki and shut the Bifrost down.

Dropping Mjölnir, Thor rushed forward to hug his father. “I am so glad to see you!”

Loki, however, looked shaken and a little frightened. He put down the Casket, slowly, then looked up. “I could do it, Father,” he pleaded. “For you. For all of us.”

Odin didn’t speak. His face was unreadable as he took three quick steps and dragged Loki into a hard embrace. In a quiet, hoarse voice he said, “You don’t need to prove anything to me, my son.”

As if thawing after a long winter, Loki slumped against his father, feeling tears overflow and drip onto Odin’s breastplate. “I am sorry, Father,” he whispered, brokenly.

“No, Loki. No. You have done well.” Odin brushed his hair back, smiling weakly at his new horns. “Let me fix this.” 

Loki felt the bindings on his magic dissolve, and he changed back to his Aesir form as easily as drawing breath. Suddenly the world was much less bright and stiflingly warm, but other than that, he didn’t feel different. He sighed with relief, feeling more at home.

“Come,” Odin said, putting an arm around his shoulders as he turned to address the watching crowd. “Asgard has been saved this day by the efforts of both my sons, and by their good friends. Tomorrow, we will host them all with a great feast to celebrate and have them regale us with their deeds!”

Now on familiar ground, the crowd cheered loudly, and allowed the Einherjar to send them on their way to spread the news.

“Asgard owes you a debt,” the All-Father told the four humans, after Thor had introduced them. “But for now, I hope you will not mind if we leave you in the care of Sif and the Warriors Three. They can show you to guest quarters in the palace, and anything you need will be provided.”

“We don’t mind at all,” Coulson said, somehow implying a bow without so much as a nod. “I’m sure you have a great deal to do.”

“I do,” Odin agreed. “But first, my wife needs to see that her sons are well.”

He turned to Loki and indicated the Casket with a sweep of his hand. “Would you mind taking care of that for now?”

“Of course, Father.” Loki picked it up and vanished it, using his magic to make his attire more presentable while he was at it, and following his father and brother out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I hope you guys aren't too upset that Malekith escaped. Comic book villains get away quite frequently, don't they? Defeating the bad guy just wasn't what this story was all about, and I couldn't think of a way to do it that worked with what I wanted to accomplish.
> 
> The seed of this story came to me as I was watching 'Thor' again, and thinking about how it could also be justifiably titled 'The Tragedy of Loki', because so many circumstances seemed to be arrayed against Loki. I thought, what if just one of those circumstances had been changed? What if Odin had been awake just one minute longer, and able to say or do something to calm Loki's fears? I did make other changes in Loki's favor as the story went on, but I hoped I managed to stay true to the characters and the world they inhabit. I wanted the finale of the story to bracket the beginning, by having Odin wake up just one minute sooner, to prevent Loki from making a terrible mistake.
> 
> This isn't quite the end, but it is very close now.


	41. Epilog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki and Odin have that long delayed talk.

Curled on a nest of cushions in an alcove of the palace library, Loki idly flipped the pages of a book about magical artifacts. He had been unable to get to sleep, so he’d thought he might as well see if he could find out any information about the Tesseract to send along with Stark before they returned to Earth, but he found he couldn’t really concentrate. His mind was too crowded with other things.

It was very late, and he had the library to himself, so the sound of approaching footsteps made him look up, thinking it must be a guard or a servant, checking to make sure he did not want anything. Instead, Odin stood there, in a long night robe and slippers.

“I thought I might find you here.”

Setting aside his book, Loki started to scramble to his feet, but the All-Father put up a hand to stop him. “May I join you?”

“Of course!” Loki moved over to allow Odin to sit next to him on the padded seat. His father lowered himself beside him with a soft grunt. Even after his long sleep, Odin moved more slowly than he remembered. More like an old man. But his eye was bright and the lines of weariness had receded as he offered Loki a little smile.

“Did you get a chance to talk with your new little brothers?”

“I did.” It had been interesting, even if his ‘little brothers’ had both been head and shoulders taller than himself, despite being children. 

As befitted princes, they had both been well-mannered and polite, but had reminded Loki of Thor and himself at similar ages when their words tumbled excitedly over each other as they described how they had helped keep the dark elves out of the Raven Tower. Asgard was accruing quite a debt to Jotunheim, but Loki suspected Laufey would not be happy when he heard.

“I wanted to thank you for going to Jotunheim for your mother,” Odin said, circling closer the the subject. “I’m sure that wasn’t easy for you, considering.”

Uncomfortably, Loki shrugged. “It was necessary. No one really wanted another war.” Except Thor, and he had now changed his mind.

They sat looking at each other, neither seeming to know what to say next. When his father finally found something, what he said was nothing Loki expected.

“Do you know my mother was Jotun?”

Loki blinked as his image of his father slid sideways. “No. I didn’t know that.” It was both history and common knowledge that the All-Father had been raised by his father, Bor. All he knew of Odin’s mother was a name: Bestla.

“I never knew her. She gave me to my father as soon as I was born and then left.”

“Her?” Loki’s brows lifted at the pronoun. 

Odin smiled ruefully. “My father told me that my mother was one of the rare and lovely ‘ice maidens’, and that she could not live away from Jotunheim, but that it was too cold for us to live there.”

“But-” Loki began hesitantly.

“Yes, I know now that there are no such thing as ice maidens. I don’t know if my father knew that, or if it was just what he told me as a child. He had died before I learned the truth of it myself.”

Odin shook his head. “You would think I would know better than to tell my own children easy lies instead of hard truths.”

It was heartening to be called Odin’s child, but Loki dreaded knowing the extent of those lies.

“Were you angry, when you found out?” He could not quite bring himself to ask, Were you ashamed? Is that why you didn’t want me to know what I was?

“Perhaps a bit. Mostly I was disconcerted. I tried to learn all I could about Jotuns and their ways.” He paused, looking at Loki. “I once tried to get you to read some of the books, but you weren’t very interested.”

“I remember that.” Loki admitted. “I was too busy with my magic lessons and never got back to it. There didn’t seem to be any reason to learn about a place we had no contact with.”

“I thought to wait and try again when you were older.” 

“If you had told me... Why did you keep it a secret from me?”

Odin sighed, combing his fingers through his beard. “I will begin at the beginning, and tell you the whole of it. Will you listen?”

Despite his tension, Loki made himself lean back into the pillows and pretend to be at ease. “I will listen.”

“I’m sure you have read that the war was long and costly, but I don’t think you can truly understand what that meant, or how close Laufey came to defeating us. It was not a popular war here in Asgard. There were a great many of my subjects who didn’t approve of our getting involved to defend Midgard. They saw no reason we should risk our sons for such primitive, short-lived beings.”

Before he had seen Midgard and its clever, intriguing inhabitants for himself, Loki might have held a similar opinion himself. He nodded his understanding.

Odin went on, “We drove the frost giants back to their own world, but I knew I could not stop there. If Laufey had decided to make another attempt, I did not think my army would be willing to take such losses to stop him a second time.”

The king was absolute ruler of his people, but unpopular kings could be deposed, or assassinated. The king did not precisely need the consent of those he ruled, but discounting their opinions invited dangers and difficulties. This was something their tutors, not to mention their father had tried over and over to impart to Thor and Loki, but it had never really been more than hypothetical to Loki before now.

“So you had to be sure there would be no new attempt.”

The All-Father sighed gustily. “Maybe there was some better way, but I did not care to find one, then. I was angry, and tired of fighting. I wanted it to be done. Decisively and finally. While we were flush with victory, I took my army into the heart of Laufey’s realm, and we did not stop until I had the Casket, and most of Laufey’s defenders were dead.”

“And me?” Loki’s palms were damp, and he rubbed them nervously on his pants. “How- Did you-” All his questions were clogging up his throat, making it impossible for Loki to ask any. He was desperately afraid of the answers.

Odin reached out and took his hand, clasping it firmly in his own. 

“When I went into that temple, after taking the Casket, I was looking for any other items of magic that the Jotuns retained that might allow them to wage war again.”

“You found me?”

“I found you,” Odin smiled, squeezing his hand. “When I first saw you there, I truly did think you had been abandoned, or perhaps orphaned. My first thought was to simply hand you over to some of the prisoners, to make sure you would be cared for, and not die before someone discovered you. I did notice you were very small, for a giant’s offspring, and I was concerned they might not care for a weak infant, but I meant to make sure you had a chance.”

“You didn’t know I was Laufey’s, then?”

“No, not then. You were just this tiny baby, crying. Hungry and afraid.”

Before, when they had fought, Loki had not understood, had not believed that his father would show mercy to a Jotun baby, any more than he would spare a baby dragon or troll. Baby monsters grew up, after all. Learning he was one of them had not made them seem less monstrous. Living among them had. He had seen Jotun babies himself, now. They looked just like babies. Larger than the other races, and blue, but cute, pudgy and helpless. Prone to crying and giggling and throwing up, just like any other baby. Of course Odin would never kill an infant. That was something the man who had raised him would never do.

“Then I picked you up, and you changed in my hands,” Odin said, softly. “You changed yourself, and I felt you call on your magic. And I knew. I remembered what I had read of the goði of Jotunheim’s ancient past.”

“You took me because of what I was?” Loki’s voice shook a little. Did you only want me for my magic?

Odin looked pained, but said, “I took you because of what I feared you might become.”

“What?”

“I told you that we came perilously close to losing the war. If Laufey had had one of their mages to aid him... I was afraid if I left you there, they would raise you up to be a weapon, poised to strike just as my own son came of age.”

“Oh,” Loki whispered, hurt spearing through him. It was a reasonable, even merciful way to eliminate such a threat. Odin had even been kind. He attempted to pull his hand away, but the All-Father would not let him.

“Let me tell it all, Loki. Before you make up your mind.”

Gulping, Loki nodded. “All right.”

“You were an innocent child, so much like my own son. I thought there had to be some way to use you to broker a peace, and so I took you.”

“As a bargaining chip? A hostage?” A tool?

“I wanted a true peace, Loki. Is that so wrong?”

“No... but..” He shook his head, then scrubbed away traitorous tears with the heel of his free hand. “It might have worked. Why didn’t you go through with it?”

“Many reasons. After I returned to Asgard, we learned you were Laufey’s own son, and that all of Jotunheim was in mourning for you. I didn’t know what to do next. You were too dangerous to send back and too dangerous to use as a hostage. Frigga was so angry with me for taking someone’s baby, even Laufey’s. I thought she was going to break her loom over my head and strangle me with the yarn.”

The image made Loki laugh, just a little. “Sorry.” Sorry for being a nuisance, even then.

“Don’t be. I’m not. Not about keeping you, anyway. I am sorry to have caused your true parents such grief. Frigga said I had no right to do such a thing, simply because of what might happen. We argued. She said we might also win a peace by sending you home.”

“You didn’t think so?”

“I didn’t think we could risk it. So I asked her to look to the future, and if she still thought we should send you back, we would.”

“What did she see?”

“You know she never tells anyone what she sees. Not even me. But she stopped arguing about it, and declared that if we were going to keep you, we had to raise you as our own son, and Thor’s brother, and I agreed.”

Out of guilt, Loki thought. Fear and guilt. What had Frigga seen? He knew she would not tell him, either.

Odin tugged his hand to pull his thoughts out of their downward spiral. “We both quickly grew to love you, Loki. You were a very lovable child. And Thor adored you. We still love you. We will always love you as our son.”

“Were you ever going to tell me the truth?” 

“Yes, I meant to. It just never seemed to be the right time. I wanted to prepare you. I wanted things to improve with the Jotuns.” 

Sighing, Odin held his gaze. “Someday you will understand. Being king is simple compared with being a father. I didn’t want you to be hurt.”

Loki supposed he could understand that. A little. He didn’t want to tell either of his parents, or Thor either, how much it HAD hurt. It still felt better to know the truth.

He decided to change the subject. “I told Fárbauti and Laufey I would spend a year with them, once things were settled.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Yes,” Loki nodded. “I want to learn more about where I came from. What I’m supposed to be.”

“You can be whatever you choose, Loki,” Odin told him, soberly.

“Even king of Asgard?” Loki challenged, with a trace of bitterness.

“Do you want to be king?” was his father’s calm riposte. 

“No,” Loki admitted. “I never did. I just wanted you to think I was worthy.”

“You are worthy, my son. That was never in doubt.” Odin squeezed his hand again and released him. “Your brother no longer thinks he is worthy of the throne, you know.”

“I suspected. He will be a good king, though. Someday.”

“Not soon, though?” Odin chuckled. “Well, he has learned that he does not know everything, and that is a good beginning. He wants to return to Midgard with his new friends. He says he feels he can do more good there.”

“Midgard was more interesting than I thought it would be,” Loki said, thoughtfully. “Are you going to let him go?”

“Yes, for a little while. We’ll see how it goes.”

This time the silence was less fraught. More companionable. 

Loki started to say “Father, about the Casket-”

At the same moment Odin asked “Do you think I should return-”

They stopped, staring at each other, then both burst out laughing.

“Yes,” Loki said, when he was able to speak again. “But not yet.”

“Whenever you are ready,” Odin promised.

“Wait, you’re giving it to ME?”

Odin shrugged. “Why not? I gave Thor the hammer, after all.”

For some reason, this set them both to laughing again, and Loki’s heart was eased. He knew beyond all doubt that the Casket of Ancient Winters was too dangerous to be given to someone Odin found unworthy, so he did not care that he would never be king. 

Odin was one who had taught him, encouraged him, and was now going to trust him. He was Loki’s father, no matter how he had come to have him. His mother loved him and would do anything for him, and his brother would stand beside him in any fight that came, even against the prejudice and enmity of Asgard. No matter how he had come to be here, he was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end. I hope you have enjoyed it! It's my first real effort at fanfiction, and I have loved writing it and interacting with the readers. It's been a wild ride and I'm a little sorry for it to come to a halt, but this is it. I do have a sequel planned, but it may be a while!
> 
> Hey, now more than 500 kudos and 100 bookmarks! I am so thrilled at the great response on this. Thanks to everyone who left kudos and comments and bookmarked!


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